


Boxed

by TheWild



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A Bit of Roleplay, Eventual Romance, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, angela is a bro, genji is ok, i can't imagine hanzo without mccree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-01-21 13:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWild/pseuds/TheWild
Summary: Being a gun for hire is hard.





	1. Past

You’d be lying if you said you enjoyed your line of work, but it paid the bills and it  _ was  _ kind of a way to see the world- albeit the world by night, and mostly bloodstained. The only thing you relied on was your AMT hardballer, and it was a good companion because guns didn’t talk.

People did, and more often than not their words were a pain in the ass.

That, and people generally didn’t like it when you opened up with ‘I’m a gun for hire, nice to meet you’, so you had started to just get used to not introducing yourself. Plus- the pay was amazing. 

Your eyes were roaming along the page of your next assignment, scanning for some kind of sign that it might be a joke- but it wasn’t. Apparently, you were going to be travelling to Japan to get rid of a member of the Shimada clan.

A handsome member of the Shimada clan, but alas. The reward for this one was huge and you had been having trouble to buy food these past few weeks. 

It was a long and arduous travel to finally reach the impressive, ancient mansion that was the headquarters for the Shimada clan- traditionally Japanese and with an impossible to find doorbell.

* * *

Your first impression of whoever gave you this assignment- an old, twitchy-eyed gentleman who was quite surprised that you were both a woman and wearing a suit- was not exactly stellar. They didn’t offer you drinks- after a 20 hour flight!- or snacks, and their lips seemed to be locked in an eternal battle of not speaking to you if it wasn’t necessary.

At least the head honcho seemed a bit more agreeable than the rest.

“Every year, Hanzo comes here to mourn the death of his brother. It makes him a sitting duck.”

At the way he states every year you guess this is not the first time they got someone to maim him, but it must have been quite unsuccessful.

“Then why isn’t he dead yet?” you throw the question at them with a shrug of the shoulder and a bat of your eyes- there’s a few gasps at the sheer nerve of you asking that question.

“He is...proficient...with a bow.”

You’d snort if it weren’t for the fact that apparently this guy had done in assassins with a bow. It was, after all, a rookie mistake to underestimate your target.

“I see. So, shoot him dead then? That’s it?”

Usually, your assignments also meant extracting information- you liked to think that was the more important part of your job, but it was hard getting rid of a reputation as a gun for hire- and it surprised you that they just wanted him dead. 

“Yes,” he dryly answers you, whispers filling the room.

“Wonderful. All I need is a time and place,” you smiled coyly, already standing up and loading your gun as a show of power- if they were going to run their mouths while you were in the room, they deserved a bit of a scare.

A scare it was. 

Immediately, three burly guards burst through the thin doors locking you off from the main hall, all charging right at you.

It seemed like a joke to you.

The first one wanted to subdue you by grabbing your arms- you smashed the gun against his forehead and locked onto his arm to break it with a swift knee-jerk. The second one followed not soon after, thinking that throwing a punch could work. You proved him wrong by ducking and drop-kicking the first assailant into him, sending both of them tumbling through the room.

The last one was a bit trickier- he came from behind, which was extremely rude- and caught you off guard by pulling on your vest. It was a mistake, though, to attack a woman’s clothes, especially clothes that were the only pieces of clothing she brought to a foreign country- gods help him if there was a tear somewhere- so you just sent your leg flying into his nether regions, leaving him grasping at his pachinko balls on the floor.

“Are we done?” you ask leisurely, stretching so your suit is in place again, all eyes on you.

“We are. Tomorrow, at sunset. The hall he will be resting in is the room to your right when you exit,” the head honcho says with a grin- but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s a glint of mischief, a hint of treachery and he is sorely mistaken if he thinks you will underestimate them.

* * *

You’d slept in the ornate hall, eaten in the ornate hall, and you were slowly starting to wonder if you could also somehow take a shit in this place. They hadn’t given you the courtesy of a bed or a room- they’d left you in the blasted room to set up.

As if a handgun needed setting up.

You kick one of the big lamps in annoyance, only to find your foot tearing through the thin fabric.

“Shit.”

You skip ahead until you see a gigantic scroll- borders red and gold- with careful Japanese calligraphy painted on it. If only you could read it.

That’s not the thing that catches your eye, though- the tear in the scroll with blood splatters around it is positively disturbing. You could understand they wanted to keep something so beautifully crafted, but they could try to fix the damn thing.

No matter- you glance at the sides of the structure and find it to be perfectly made for climbing- carefully you find your way up onto a set of wooden planks that looks down upon the scroll, yet is conveniently out of sight.

I mean, that was some guessing on your part but surely it was going to be too dark in here to see anything anyway.

* * *

It starts with the faint sounds of ass getting kicked and quickly turns into a flurry of screams and sirens that are cut off surprisingly fast. You were counting your change and unfortunately, because of all the commotion, dropped some coins down onto the floor below.

There goes being stealthy.

Alas, you could be lucky and assume he thinks there are no guards here- because there aren’t- but you probably wouldn’t get that kind of break.

“Just enough for a latte,” you sigh, looking down at your money down below. Just enough for a latte if your remember to pick those damn coins up again.

The sounds of people getting taken down get closer progressively, but you have yet to hear your target make any kind of noise. Carefully, you pocket the spare change you still had in your hand and get your gun ready- breathing silent and eyes fixed on the door.

What an entrance it was. You weren’t kidding when you thought it was a handsome guy- from his muscular yet lean build to his shiny black hair- the man oozed beauty. He took slow, careful, quiet steps into the hall, as if he was afraid to disrupt the dead themself.

You had your gun pointed at his head all the while- carefully keeping tabs on every move he made- but when his eyes shift to your coins on the floor you drop all pretence of doing this in the shadows and fire ahead.

He’s quick to dodge.

“It is a coward this year, is it? Come out,” he growls with a heavy accent- it’s surprisingly polite that he considers you might not be Japanese, but that might just be his experience with previous assassins- and you smile to yourself.

“Why don’t you get out that bow of yours, and we’ll see who’s a coward?” you grin from atop your perch- he knows in which direction you are but he still doesn’t know where exactly, which gives you the upperhand.

For now.

Angrily, he sends off three arrows and one grazes your cheek- they weren’t kidding when they said he used a bow. Who the hell still uses a bow- you wince when you touch the cut on your cheek- in this day and age?

“I will not ask you twice,” he continues, loading up another batch of  _ wooden sticks with pointy ends with which to shoot you _ \- honestly the weirdest thing you’ve seen in your entire career- but your voice stops him from shooting just yet.

“If I come out, will we have a fistfight? I honestly think my chances of living are better where I am.”

You’ve always had a smart mouth- and you were going to pay for that someday- dodging and curling up in between barrage after barrage of arrows until you finally give in and climb down.

He is kind enough to stop momentarily because you also aren’t firing- you breathe in the honor like a fresh breath of febreeze entering your nose because you just accidentally sprayed the can in the wrong direction- and you lean a hand on your hips and stretch your shoulder.

You both size each other up now that you’re both in the limelight of a stage called ‘kill the other one before you get killed’- and also the moon. The moon is giving off a lot of light.

“And how do you think you will succeed,” he begins, “contrary to the ones who came before you?”

You blink and shrug.

“It’s 50/50, honestly. Not going to jinx myself,” you smile, checking if your belt still has a few rounds- you’re glad to find it does. 

His bow lowers slightly at your uninterested reply- you’re guessing most of the people that came for his head were a lot more passionate about it- but doesn’t lose focus.

In fact, if he shot right now, you’d have an arrow stuck in your midriff.

“That said, this is my job. How’d you like to duke it out?” you give him an even bigger, stellar smile and he gives you...the dryest expression mankind could muster.

What a stick in the mud, this one.

Time ticks by slowly as you are both locked in some kind of staredown- but you are temporarily distracted by noises to your right. Specifically, footsteps. Your head doesn’t turn but you are not comfortable hearing the sounds, since you were very sure Shimada would’ve taken out everyone properly.

* * *

Right when you’re about to shoot, you have to duck for other gunshots, rolling straight into the man with the bow pointed at you- catapulting you both into a hole in the ground of the other room, thigh awkwardly slung across his face as you try to get your foot out from under him.

“What are you doing!” he question-yells, yell-questions, awkwardly staring up at you while you crush his dominant arm with your foot. You give him a copy of the dry expression he’d shown you before- taking your time to study his face.

Neatly trimmed beard on a sharp face- this guy had cheekbones you would kill for.

“Those gunshots weren’t mine.”

He’s slightly greying around his ears, but besides that his hair is a beautiful shade of black.

“Does it matter if you will die here anyway?” he hisses- wrestling you from on top of him to under him with a sharp arrow poking at your neck.

You give a sigh through your nose- loud and annoyed.

“Get off,” you say calmly.

“No.”

This job went from uncomfortable to downright hellish  _ real  _ fast. 

When you catch him staring you down- examining your face much like you did his- you find an opening and crack the arrow so it’s out of your neck-area, and swing yourself back on top of him.

Hell hath no fury like the man you’d just manhandled if his face was any indication.

“Ok, look, grumpy-face, I don’t want to be in here with you either. Thing is, my man, that somebody knew I was going to be here assassinating you and they clearly weren’t going to stop me, so they’re not your friend. And since they want to kill me, they’re not mine either. If you help me now, I’m going to leave you alone in your whatever-”

“Mourning.”

“- yes, that. Pinky promise as well as I’ll give you the files so you can get rid of them.”

Your chest awkwardly shoves forward into his face- this was not a spacious hiding place, and you seemed to not give a  _ fuck  _ about modesty. It annoyed him, and though he moved back it hardly seemed to deter you from avoiding his body.

After three more rounds of ‘dodge physical contact’ you sighed.

“Look, big boy. I can’t get out without touching you. Get over yourself.”

“It is inappropriate,” he mutters, and you give him a smirk.

“I’m sure a handsome fella like you has done some bumping and grinding already,” you say, distracting him enough so you can pull yourself up into the room- crotch dangling very close to Shimada’s face.

Ah well, if that was going to be the worst thing about today, you could deal with it. Sleeping on the hard wooden floor definitely was worse than this anyway.

And you still hadn’t gone to the toilet.

“I am going to get out, kill that motherfucker, and then give you what you need,” you started, getting ready to launch yourself into raging gunfire, “don’t get in my way.”

If there was any way to make Hanzo even angrier, you’d found it. It was a feat how angry you’d gotten him in the span of 5 minutes.

No matter for you, though- you jump out and immediately duck behind one of the ornate lamps that were way too big- even though bullets fly right through it he at least has no idea where you are.

Now that you were finally alone and not trying to protect the honour of some guy that was probably older than you- the phrase rolled around in your head some more.

_ Thing is, my man, that somebody knew I was going to be here assassinating you and they clearly weren’t going to stop me, so they’re not your friend. And since they want to kill me, they’re not mine either. _

After a few moments the coins drops and you let out a gasp.

The elders.

They probably wanted to cover this up and keep it in the family- hence the whole secretive business- and you needed to be dead for that.

How rude! You were just trying to do your job. A job they hired you for. A job you still had to get paid for, as well.

_ Rude _ .

You hear footsteps shuffle and that signals that your other attacker- not Hanzo, he’s still brooding in that little hole in the floor- is getting closer and it’s about time you formed a plan of attack.

Hmm.

Hmmmm.

_ Hmmmmmm _ .

When the footsteps are almost right behind you, you figure this will take too much time to think through so you jump out- firing away at anything that moved.

Lucky for you, a body fell to the floor- limp and bleeding.

Jackpot.

You made sure he couldn’t get back up with a few more shots in the head- and one in the neck.

“An ambush, huh?” you muttered, reloading calmly. 

You couldn’t help the dry, sarcastic expression on your face when you felt the cold metal of a knife against your neck- your gun positioned at his side at lightning speed while the empty cartridge fell on your foot.

“Bet you 20 I can shoot faster than you can cut,” you started, cocking the gun slowly, “so it’s either we both get out alive or both die. Your choice.”

“You think I fear death?” he spits, emphasis on every single word.

“Starting to think you’re a bit too  _ eager  _ for it,” you whispered- more to yourself than to him, but alas- you took out the holopad you had stashed in your coat and threw it at him- a resounding tap let you know he caught it-, “look, all info’s on there, as well as the down payment. You got that, you go free- until they realize you are in fact alive, of course. But it should give you at least a 2 month head start. And it should give me time to get out of their sight as well. Win-win.”

When he doesn’t respond, you only need a split second to pull his entire weight down with yours using the hand that’s holding the knife- slamming it against the ground so the knife clatters away and his chest is against your back- you can feel his beard tickling your ear, moving your gun to his neck.

“What’s it going to be,  _ mr. Shimada _ ?” you whisper- some might call it seductively, you call it persuasive- and you grin when he swallows a lump in his throat, clearly disgruntled.

“Fine,” he hisses, and you can’t help but notice that his deep tones sound really nice up close- but you let go and kick the knife away, jogging over to the side of the building.

“Well then, goodbye.”

Hanzo fears for a split second you’ve actually gone and committed a mindless suicide- casually hopping over the edge with your jacket swaying in the wind- until he sees the grappling hook and clicks his tongue.

* * *

You stop in your tracks when you’re already far away from Shimada castle.

“My latte money-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Hanzo is really hard for me. I hope this is decent enough. ;)


	2. Present - 1

The shop owner seemed surprisingly calm, even when somebody had just kicked down the door to the establishment.

You’d just gone out for some lasagna and ice tea- and perhaps an ice cream if your wallet would allow it- at the dingiest grocery store in the neighbourhood. Botching the Shimada assignment had left you on a dry spell when it came to work- you reckoned it was because they were influential people- and you had given your target the access to the reward money. You had some savings left, luckily, but they were slowly draining away, especially since it had been almost a year since that last job.   
Unfortunately it wasn’t really the time or the place to consider your monetary laments- you looked over at what had kicked down the door exactly and found a lean girl with long brown hair and pink...triangles...on her face. Your eyes quickly glide over to the giant mechanized thing behind her- also a bright pink and with big guns. You duck in between the frozen foods aisle and the snack aisle, having a few bag of crisps falling on your head.

Today just couldn’t get any worse.

When you heard your name being called out- there was the hint of an accent you had no time to place- your spine stiffened and your breathing stopped. You had your AMT hardballer with you and your hand was slowly gripping the hilt.

Still clutching the lasagna- defrosting slowly in your hand- you started skedaddling to the backdoor.

No such luck. The triangle lady was apparently quick on her feet and swift in her aim- she had you at gunpoint with a feminine pink weapon.

“We are here to talk.”

It sure as fuck didn’t seem that way.

“Mind putting the gun down, then?”

“You might shoot me.”

“Good point, good point. But now you might shoot me.”

“True.”

A real conundrum. You hadn’t actually taken out your trusty companion yet, mainly because gunshots would alert the police and with your profession, that would be the shittiest addition to this mess you were in. You weren’t even sure what kind of mess it was yet.

“My name is D.VA. I am part of project Overwatch and here to recruit you.”

“At gunpoint?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

You liked her spunk.

You’d heard of Overwatch, of course, like every person on the planet. The magnificent rise and the shameful fall. You’d gotten some job offers to go look for the -apparently not dead- main figures, Morrison and Amari.

But you’d rather be found dead than collaborate with Talon.

“Overwatch got disbanded years ago, young lady,” you smartly retort. She huffs at your insinuation that she is young.

“I can only tell you more if you come with me.”

She’s lowered her gun, finally, and your spine loosens up as you stand up straight. You are taller than her, and you reckon you at least look a slight bit intimidating- even with the melting lasagna and your unwashed blazer draped over your stained shirt.

“What’s in it for me?”

“A job. And clean clothes.”

* * *

She made you leave behind your lasagna- granted, it wasn’t yours, technically, but you hadn’t eaten in a while- but the prospect of an actual job had made you follow her quite fast.

You still had your hand on the hilt of your AMT, though- she was not going to catch you off guard. About ten metre out of the store, you’d remembered you weren’t bringing anything, before you remembered that the only other things you owned were a few other pieces of underwear. You could probably get some wherever she was taking you.

“The dropship is not too far from here,” she smiles at you- she’s polite and respectful and it would be annoying if it weren’t so refreshing to have someone not yell and curse at you. 

“Cool.”

You tense up and have to hide the fact that you’d pointed your gun at her ankle when she lets out a loud shout- in a language you don’t understand- and complains about dirt in a forest. Carefully, you take a look at the damage.

“Ooh, that’s unpleasant. Why aren’t you wearing proper shoes?” you ask when you spot that she’s unfortunately placed one of her feet in poop- and judging by the suit she was wearing that stink was seeping right through to her foot.

“I don’t need fashion advice from an old lady,” she mentions, a little miffed, but she’s still got the corners of her lips raised so you don’t take any offense to it.

“Touché. Where exactly are we going, anyway?”

It’s getting dark and she’s just leading you along winding forest paths right outside the smaller city- her mech is trailing behind like a lost puppy.

You never thought you’d have to make that comparison.

“The dropship.”

“Yes, I figured that out,” you mutter, “I mean with the dropship. Where’s it taking me?”

“Gibraltar.”

That meant fuck all to you. Where was Gibraltar? 

D.VA could feel the cogs turning in your head and explained it to you briefly- it was the restored Overwatch headquarters but it was unknown that the restored base was there because it was apparently  _ very  _ illegal.

“I don’t know the details of it,” she shrugs, “but it seems that you’re very good at being sneaky and doing illegal things. Most of us are kind of goody two-shoes or military people, so we’re not that used to it. No offense.”

You grin when you see the dropship in front of you- a magnificent thing, truly, and clearly the latest technology.

“None taken. Sneaky’s my name, killing’s my game,” you joke before boarding.

* * *

The ship was nice- inside and out. You’d never had the pleasure of being inside a military vehicle, considering your profession, but you quickly found out it wasn’t too different from one of the planes you’d been on for an information job with Vishkar.

Though that one crashed and that job prospect went downhill really fast. 

“So, you in the military?” you casually ask while she presses a random array of buttons and pulls some levers haphazardly. A screen starts up and tells the both of you ‘Athena’ is starting- whatever that is.

“I was.”

It’s not exactly unfriendly but she’s clearly focusing. You nonchalantly place yourself on the co-pilot’s seat, figuring it’s more fun to seat yourself there instead of far away in the back. It’s only when you are leaning back fully that you realize there was a person on the ship when you’d walked up to the front.

Panicky, you turn and aim your gun at a red visor.

“Oh, don’t mind the old man,” D.VA remarks. 

“Why’s there an old man with red eyes on your plane?!” you hurriedly ask- the visor is standing up and coming over with confident strides.

“He didn’t think I could convince you alone.”

You glance at D.VA and she’s got an arrogant look on her face. How old was this kid, exactly?

“You owe me 20, Soldier,” she then says. 

‘Soldier’ is a hunk of man. You don’t mean that because he’s good-looking: in fact, the only skin you can see is forehead so it’s hard to judge. He is twice your size and at least a head taller, though- he’s wearing camo pants and a flashy red-white-blue jacket.

And a robotic visor that deters the attention only slightly from his shiny silver hair.

“Are you going to put down that gun?” he finally speaks- a metallic, low grunting noise. You hesitantly comply.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you retort immediately- your brows are furrowed and you don’t trust him. Where D.VA seems too young and naive to trick you, this guy has at least 20 years on you. 

And anyone in the illegal organization business that is older, is a threat. 

“I was having a nap.”

“Old,” D.VA only says jokingly and he flicks a finger against he back of her head.

“I don’t mean to offend but you people don’t exactly look like the kind of people that can be in a secretive organization.”

You say that mostly because of their clothing choices- bright and flashy.

“I did read in your file that you were supposed to look a bit more...elegant.”

The ship is finally up in the air and you shrug.

“Been out of commission for a while. Heard about you shutting down branches of the Los Muertos gang, though,” you calmly add, looking the man straight in his visor- you might not look professional anymore but you had pockets stuffed with data- literally.

Nothing left your side, even if most of it was redundant at this point.

He grunts with a hint of appraisal.

“Winston said you had dirt on a lot of organizations,” D.VA states- or asks, it was hard to tell- and you refrain from asking if she means the gorilla.

It somehow seemed rude if it wouldn’t be the  _ actual  _ gorilla.

“I get asked to kill a lot of people by a lot of people. Well, got asked. That Shimada case completely fucked with my flow,” you sighed.

Hanzo Shimada’s pristine face and flawless hair flashes before your eyes for a second.

“We can use someone like that. Especially now that the Sombra girl is informed about anyone and anything.”

You raise an eyebrow. You’d never heard of Sombra. The way Soldier said it had a hint of disdain- you guessed she wasn’t on their side.

* * *

 

The plane ride had been long, and boring. D.VA had been piloting the vehicle most of the time and you’d actually drifted off into a light sleep at a certain point- but you’d kept your gun resting in your lap and your hand in your pocket, grabbing at your data.

The Gibraltar base was...shoddy, at best. It was cool how they’d turned a tiny island into a multifunctional base, but the construction needed work and by the boxes of illegal cargo strewn about, you got the hint that this organization hadn’t been on its feet in a long time. It was all pipes and railroads and clearly meant for something different than housing a mess of professionals together under the guise of an illegal organization.

But you refrained from insulting it and just trodded along behind D.VA, Soldier keeping pace with your steps.

Various types passed you by and some looked you up and down with a funny glint in their eyes- either there’d been talk that you would arrive or that tomato stain on your blazer was more visible than you thought it was.

“Winston! We got your assassin,” D.VA suddenly yells, knocking on a thick metal door. Soldier steps along and disappears down the hall when the actual gorilla appears in the doorway.

He looks you over with a smile while he pushes his glasses back in place and you give a curt nod.

“I didn’t expect you to come along,” he honestly says, extending a paw. You shake it with a brief mention of your name.

“I’m out of work. You offered me work. Not a hard choice,” you shrug and D.VA says a quick goodbye, leaving you with Winston.

He motions for you to come in and you take a seat at what seems to be a table for meetings- he offers you coffee because it’s already morning again and sits himself down opposite from you.

“So, tell me. Is this like a job interview or?” you ask, taking a sip of the hot drink after pouring in gratuitous amounts of sugar.

“Not quite. We don’t really...hire people. Kind of tough when the organization is illegal. But-”

“What exactly am I here to do?” 

You don’t mean to sound rude but it’s all so unclear it’s pissing you off.

“I know you usually have a job with a clear target- I mean goal. But we need people. You’re good in the field, you have information.”

“You’re just recruiting assassins willy-nilly? Seems like a bad business practice.”

“Actually, Genji recommended you.”

You had no idea who Genji was- the name rang a bell but it was a very far away bell.

“Genji Shimada,” Winston says, noting your expression, “he’d somehow found out about your assassination attempt on Hanzo Shimada and how you didn’t go through with it.”

“Oh my fucking- the little brother?” you exclaim, happy to finally make the click, “that’s nice of him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I've just been feeling very under the weather. I'm working on all running stories so no stress :D


	3. Present - 2

“You still owe me a lasagna, pipsqueak,” you menacingly point your fork at Hana- you had gotten tired of calling her three letters in a row and had cornered her in the mess hall for introductions- who was actually trying to steal some of your spaghetti.

Of course, she was way too young to think she could fool you.

“You didn’t even pay for that.”

“I would’ve! And I would’ve enjoyed that sweet, sweet blend of tomatoes and cheese...oh, the cheese…”

Needless to say, most of the people you’d encountered between exiting Winston’s office and coming to the mess hall didn’t exactly think you were an assassin. One sporty young lad in a bright green uniform even implied you were a goddamn  _ accountant _ .

“Lady, you are weird,” Hana just says, dejectedly digging into her own noodles- which looked as good if not better than your meal, so you weren’t sure why she was acting like that. 

“Not as weird as some of the circus acts that hang around here,” you shrugged, right when the biggest surprise of them all walked into the room: a robot and a cowboy.

“Hana, do my eyes deceive me? Is there a Halloween party going on?”

The robot was lean and metallic with green accents all over, while the cowboy had a touch of leather all over and a bright red scarf around his shoulders.

Wait.

That ‘BAMF’ belt was, besides extremely tacky and ridiculous, also one of the key identifying factors for one of the most elusive bounty hunters out there.

“Well, if it ain’t Stella!” McCree exclaims with a newfound passion and you remember the name you gave him when you were out on a mission- he was there too and you’d figured it was easier to just trick him with fake names and affection.

“Your name is not Stella,” Hana dryly remarks and you shoosh her, a giant grin on your face.

“Jesse! Long time no see!”

Both him and the robot are coming over now, Jesse’s arms spread wide as if he is going for a hug- you stand up and mimic him.

If the lad wanted a fight, he’d get one.

Hana was, to your amusement, extremely confused.

“Yeah, y’can say that! What was it again-” he leans into you and wraps his arms around you in an ice-cold grip, “ah, yeah, indeed, y’left me for dead an’ called the cops on me!”

As if on cue, he tries to German suplex you head-first into the ground but you’re quicker and smaller, slipping out from under his grip and kicking him off his feet. 

He doesn’t take it and quickly drags you down with him.

“What in- what are you two doing?” the robot asks- a faint Japanese accent apparent. 

“This ‘ere lady made a fool outta me.”

You don’t miss the endearing tone he uses.

“You already do that by yourself by wearing that ridiculous belt. Who takes you seriously when they see that?” you mock- trying to get back up but his hand wraps around your wrist and he topples you over again, back on the ground. Your ass hits the cold tiles with a dull ‘thud’ and you hiss.

“Water under the bridge, McCree, I needed to save my own head there.”

As if taunting him, and also entertaining the audience of at least 5 new recruits that are staring at you both- excluding the robot and Hana- you lean down on his broad chest and let the heel of your boot rest on his groin.

“Y’said we were partners! An’ you were wearing a mighty fine ensemble,” he pouts, shooing you off. You comply with a smile.

“We were partners. For exactly 5 minutes until everything went to shit because you think with your dick instead of your brain.”

“What do you two think you’re doing?”

It’s Soldier, this time- he’s holding a steaming cup of coffee and his voice sounds even more angry and gruff than before.

“Saying hello to an old friend,” you and McCree grin in unison and help each other up- he gives your back a few harsh pats for good measure.

It was a long time ago that you’d met him in a seedy bar, contract signed to take him out. You couldn’t. You found it more of an unspoken code to not kill people in the same profession as you- so you’d created a diversion and called the cops on him in the hopes that he could get himself out of it.

“Well, don’t cause a scene,” Soldier huffs and he disappears again. You sit back down in front of your spaghetti, wolfing down the last few bites and find that McCree and his friend also take a seat.

“So, what’s yer real name and what’re you doing here?” Jesse asks. Hana is quick to interrupt.

“I recruited her!”

“Not quite, Winston did that,” you mutter as you say your name. The robot turns.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Genji,” he states, giving a small bow of the head. You can’t help your surprise.

“You’re Genji Shimada?” 

“In the flesh,” McCree notes at your incredulous tone.

“You’re a lot more friendly than your brother,” you huff, finishing up the plate and wiping your mouth on your sleeve. You reckoned they were going to give you new clothes soon- or at least give you access to a washing machine.

“You know Hanzo?” Hana now asks, surprised, and you look into her big brown eyes.

“Met him briefly. Not on the best terms.”

“That’s a problem, he’s here too,” Hana states, crossing her arms as if lecturing you.

“Young lady, don’t take that tone with me. I’ve met plenty of disgruntled ex-targets before,” you look at McCree for good measure, “he’ll get over it.”

* * *

You’d thanked Genji for giving Winston your recommendation, explaining that you could use the job- afterwards you’d headed down further into the facility with Hana to pick up clothes and to go see your room. The first thing she gave you was an earpiece- you figured you weren’t going to go out on any missions considering intelligence was your forte, but you’d plugged it in anyway.

Your room was simple- a bed, a table and a closet- but it was better than a shoddy motel, at least. The clothes were also simple- training suits with Overwatch logos and a promise that your suit would get dry-cleaned.

When you exit your room after carefully hiding your stored data and getting dressed in the tank top and loose trainers, you can only take a good ten steps before coming face to face with your problem- Hanzo.

Hanzo looking positively murderous when he sees you.

With a huff and a puff, and a demeaning raised chin, he tries to walk past you but you stop him in his tracks with a palm wrapped around his bare arm.

“If we’re going to be in this together, we need to talk.”

“We are not in  _ anything  _ together,” he hisses, “you are nothing if not dead to me.”

He’s at least turned towards you- awkwardly close considering his aversion to physical contact back when you first met him- and you find his cheekbones are still as magnificent as when you first saw them.

“Unfortunately for the both of us, we are.”

“You tried to kill me, and you tried to kill Jesse.”

You tune out the rest of his speech to figure out why exactly that this guy is on first name basis with the playboy cowboy.

He gets your attention by grabbing one of the straps on your tank top.

“Are you  _ listening _ ?”

“I’m sorry, you know McCree?” you say before looking down- wow, your bra is out in plain view right now thanks to his aggressive grabbing. You look back up to find he’s also looked down to see what you were doing, and he lets it go in favour of grabbing your upper arm as well.

His hands are rough and warm and pretty big.

And was that- dare you say it- the hint of a blush on his face?

“Look, just like with you, I didn’t actually kill McCree. I’m not saying I’m an angel but at least understand that I get how teamwork goes,” you are practically pleading but he doesn’t take it and slams you into the wall of the hallway.

“The only reason you are alive is because Genji speaks highly of you.”

You had to get Genji a gift or something, the man was protecting your back without even knowing you. 

He’s leaning in close now- noses brushing and the warmth of his breathing on your lips. You can’t help your grimace.

“Time for you to start trusting your brother’s judgement, then,” you try to reply as calm as you can but your voice tilts at the end and he seems surprised.

It had been a long time since someone had come this close with warm hands and pretty eyes, and though Hanzo’s personality was shit, he did have great looks.

Hanzo’s quiet though- you reckon the subject gave him some food for thought. No matter though, he quickly regains his stoic expression and somehow manages to come even closer without kissing you- you are holding your breath longer than you’d like.

“You do not tell me what to do.”

With that, he storms off to go be moody- you guessed.

* * *

For some reason- very absurd reason that you’d yet to find out- they had managed a little garden on the quite demolished base. You’d wandered there by accident, really- going over a quick assignment Winston had given you regarding your stashed data. You’d been kind of hesitant to hand it over at first, but you figured that if these people were going to give you a job, you might as well share some info on the baddies.

You’d been smart enough to keep the info on some of them to yourself.

It was just some grass and an assortment of plants that still needed time to grow, but it seemed very idyllic in contrast to the harsh metal tones around it.

An omnic was meditating together with the kinder Shimada brother, the latter being quick to perk up and open his eyes when your heels clicked on the metal floor.

“Hi there,” you smile, keeping in mind that this person was the only reason you didn’t have an arrow lodged in your throat yet, “enjoying some peace and quiet?”

“Yes,” Genji replies, metallic voice sounding calm and polite, “this is my mentor, Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta is a typical monk-figure- his expression even when acknowledging you is calm and warm.

“Genji has told me a lot about you! It seems you are not in good spirits with everyone.”

You take a guess and sit yourself down on the grass, hoping that he meant that as an invitation. 

“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly. You don’t exactly make friends in my profession,” you shrug, leaving the holopad Winston gave you at your side.

“My brother was in an especially foul mood. Did you meet him?” 

You recall the warm breath and the poignant eyes- but quickly snap yourself out of it.

“More like he almost punched the living daylights out of me. Hey, what’s the relationship between him and Jesse? He doesn’t seem like a first-name-basis kind of guy.”

You ask mainly out of personal curiosity and for a potential chance at having some kind of leverage over Hanzo- Jesse was, despite your history, being polite and you intended to keep it that way.

“They are dating,” Genji remarks, and you detect a hint of happiness at the remark- he must’ve thought his brother would stay alone.

Can’t blame him, it is hard to get a date when you have anger issues.

“Hmm,” you smirk, “wouldn’t have guessed. They’re polar opposites.”

“That relationship is not why you are here, I am guessing,” Zenyatta says softly, “you look troubled.”

You shoot him a look- trying to decipher whether or not it was a good idea to talk feelings with this unknown Omnic monk- but you guessed that if Winston and Hana trusted him enough to have him here, you could too.

“I’d just like it if he didn’t shoot daggers at me with his eyes. I was just doing my job.”

You aren’t quite pouting but if you had a penchant for showing emotions on your face, it would definitely have been there.

“He has a lot on his mind,” Genji tries, and you can’t help your snort.

“Don’t we all? Lame excuse not to talk things out, Genji. Can I call you Genji?”

He nods.

“Alright, so, last time I tried to talk friendly to a target it ended in quite the scuffle and it broke my nose. I would like this to not be a repeat of that, but you are the only thing keeping him from strangling me with his bare hands,” you point at Genji- it’s rude, but you really want to make your point.

He seems to be listening intently. At least, you guess so- his visor is still trained on you.

“Now, one day, I’ll have to go on missions. He also goes on missions. I’m pretty dang sure that if we make eye contact in the wrong place at the wrong time, he’ll fucking pull the trigger,” you say before adding an afterthought, “not that I wouldn’t then, either. Self defense and such.”

Genji’s still quiet.

“I need him to work out that frustration and place it somewhere else.”

“I see,” Zenyatta muses, but you know that it’s Genji’s gears who are turning- you hope not literally. Would he have a robot brain? That would be pretty neat.

“I do not know how. It took a long time before he even talked to me,” Genji replies with a defeated sigh.

“Jesse’s not the best man for something like that either,” you say it confidently because you know you’re right- you’re sure the cowboy has a big heart and a bit of a brain on him but he wasn’t exactly tactful.

“He is not. I will arrange something. Meet me tomorrow in the gym,” Genji says then, clearly marking the end of the conversation- you stand up and take back the holopad.

“Alright, gentlemen. Where the fuck can I find Winston?”

* * *

Hana had given you back your suit, accompanied by a sporty gentleman with dreadlocks who’d been incredibly polite, and the infamous doctor Ziegler.

You’d decided to put it back on before meeting up with Genji- if he had somehow managed to find Hanzo in a mood good enough to talk, you should do your best to look decent.

That, and one day of walking around with trainers and high heels was enough of a fashion faux-pas.

When you found the gym after having Jesse point it out after you’d passed him by three times- ‘walkin’ in a circle just to see me, darlin’? how kinda you.’ - you were met with both brothers talking in hushed tones, and in a language you didn’t speak.

Japanese, probably.

The room instantly became tense and quiet when they noticed your presence, for two reasons: Genji’s relieved sigh was music to your ears but Hanzo’s angry eyes made you doubt your decision to actually show up.

“It is good to see you,” Genji greets- you step closer but not quite close enough.

“Likewise. You too,” you nod curtly at Hanzo who scoffs at you.

Great start, really.

“I have spent some time thinking how I could make you two resolve it, and I feel like both of you speak one language clearly: combat.”

You couldn’t help your surprise.

“No. No, no, no. No, no, no, no. I am not fighting with someone who bears a grudge,” you instantly remark but Genji doesn’t move- you hate the fact that you can’t read facial expressions.

“Genji, this is stupid. We already know the outcome-”

“What was that?”

You couldn’t help your venomous question at Hanzo’s implication that he could take you in a fistfight- it wasn’t because you wore a suit all the time that you hadn’t actually had to use your hands. 

“I have done years of martial arts training and perfected it. You stand no chance,” his words are venom but all you hear is ‘pompous’ repeating over and over in your head.

“Yeah, bet you’re a real piece of work, aren’t you? Ever had to punch your way out of a warehouse full of Soldier: 76 copies out to kill you? Probably not.”

You were pretty easily lured into dick-measuring contests if not for the sheer fact that you hated being talked down to.

“Scraping by the skin of your teeth is not knowing how to fight.”

“Alright, fuck, Genji, what’s the rules? I want to see blood,” you spit, taking off your vest at lightning speed- your sleeves are quickly rolled up and you remove your gun holster.

“I guess until there is blood?” he shrugs, clearly taken aback by your remark- he probably didn’t expect you to actually do this.

You didn’t either.

Hanzo removes his weapons and useless storage as well until you’re both just staring, waiting for the other one to make a move. Genji’s played it safe and has taken a few steps back, but not quite far enough so he can’t interfere should it go too far.

“Well, come at me then, fuckface,” you taunt- taunting sometimes worked. You clearly had some steps ahead on Hanzo when it came to manoeuvring- you knew that because you’d spent so long dodging bullets your legs were practically iron. You didn’t quite know about upper body strength, though- despite his pretty face the man did have quite a set of muscles going.

He lunges- quicker than you thought, but not quick enough- and tries to hit your face but you duck in time and punch him in the stomach. It does leave you in a vulnerable spot- he raises his knee up into your ribcage and your breath is cut short.

Undeterred, you kick him off his feet and waste no time straddling him and pulling him up by the fabric of his kimono- you didn’t just want to break his nose and get this over with. You wanted to hear an apology.

It’s stupid, and you know it- first rule of fighting is not wasting time on petty wants and needs- so when he headbutts you, you’re thrown off guard for the slightest second. That was definitely going to bruise, the man’s face was rock-hard. At least he didn’t quite expect your head to leave such an impact- you’re both blinking trying to make sense of the situation but he’s quicker to recover.

When he slams you down on the ground and takes his turn straddling you, you’re thrashing and kicking- you have half a mind to dig your nails into his exposed arm but decide against it.

That would get blood on your nails and that’s really quite gross.

He tries to go for an immediate punch to the face again but you manage to stop him by grabbing his wrist, and when he tries it with his other arm you mimic the move.

Which leaves you both stuck in eternal limbo.

“Just say I’ve won and we can stop this petty fight,” he’s smirking, and you start seeing actual red.

“I’d rather die.”

“Be my guest.”

You hadn’t expected him to be such a goddamn smarty-pants.

In a flash, you let go of his wrists and pull him down into a headbutt again- but this time, you’re aiming for the nose. Unfortunately, due to you not being in entire control, you both end up hearing and feeling a sickly crack- you’re both motionless and staring at the other.

You notice his hair is slightly out of place now, not impeccable as always- the anger in his eyes has not necessarily subsided but there’s something else in there. And there was blood trickling down his chin, his nose red and blue.

You lick your lip and taste iron as well- you don’t notice Genji leaning down and tapping out, you’re too busy looking in his eyes to hear him say you  _ bested  _ him.

“It is a tie. Amazing,” Genji remarks- Hanzo’s not moving.

“Get off of me,” you hiss, pushing Hanzo slightly- he wipes his face before standing up with a dignified flair.

You scramble to get up and assert the damage on your nose.

“Are you two feeling better?” Genji now asks- you have half a mind to give him a bloody nose, as well. What kind of a question was that? This was only going to make him angrier.

You turn briefly at Hanzo, only to find him still staring at you. You’re guessing it’s surprise that graces his features, but it might as well be posh angry staring.

You swallow back some harsh words.

“Yeah. I figured out this can’t be talked about. Thanks for nothing.”

You leave the Shimadas to whatever they want to do next, the harsh clicking of your heels hopefully making them more nervous.


	4. Present - 3

You are patching up your broken nose- at least trying, touching at it with feather light fingers and making ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ noises- in a corner of the Gibraltar base that looked significantly less dirty to you, hoping to be left alone.

No such luck.

You hear the clicking of heels- not yours- at a leisurely pace before it starts to pick up and you turn only to find the famous medic storming at you.

“What are you doing!” she doesn’t yell, but her voice is brisk and motherly- like you are a 5 year old that stuck a lego in their mouth. You turn to her fully with the dried blood on your chin, shrugging.

“My nose,” you mutter, pointing at the blasted thing for emphasis. She gasps.

“Get up and come with me! Why are you crouching down in a dark corner touching at it! You are making it worse!”

There’s no doubt that you have to listen to her- you were afraid if you didn’t she’d drag you away, still looking impeccable. Quietly you follow her through a few hallways, leading into a medical hall filled with hospital beds and a few tired recruits. She points at a bed and you sit down, trying to wipe off some blood- you waited too long though, and it’s crusty and disgusting.

God, you hated those Shimadas.

She just points a small beam at you and soon the pain slightly subsides, as well as the bleeding- she hands you a wet handkerchief and you start cleaning your face.

“Genji told me what he was up to,” she confesses, and you sigh.

“Yeah, not a bright one, that guy. This shit got even worse. I’m sure you’ve been through my file,” your tone doesn’t accuse her, it was only logical for them to research about your background and specifically what made you lay low for a year after a -if you may say so yourself- successful career.

“I did. I thought it best to...how do you say it...not interfere. I tried telling Genji.”

She looks at you with honest, angelic blue eyes but because of a certain man you had a hard time appreciating ocean tints in eyes.

“Thanks for that. He should listen to you,” you pout a little at the idea that someone could’ve prevented this- if it weren’t for Shimadas and doing whatever they please.

She sits herself down on a wayward chair before speaking; “do you have a plan for reducing the animosity between you two?”

“You  _ three _ ,” you remark, “and no. Blood loss makes it hard to think.”

“You’ve once walked around with three bullets in your arm.”

You remember that morning and it was not a good morning.

“Good point,” you say, “I just...I’ve turned another leaf, you know? I’d like for Hanzo to just at least treat me with a little respect.”

“You did try to kill him,” Ziegler remarks. You sigh.

“If I really wanted him dead, he’d have been six feet under before I set foot on this base.”

She scans you for insincerity, but finds none.

“I once had a situation where I met someone and relations were...strained. But talking is the best way to understanding how others think and work. Hanzo holds honour in high regards, perhaps it’s just necessary to show him you also wield your own code of honour.”

You’re tempted to ask her what situation it was exactly, but you’d figure it out soon enough. You hoped.

“I think that’s where the problem lies. Honour has never really influenced my decisions,” you reply quietly and she pats your knee.

“Jesse is still breathing.”

“Well,” you grin, “who can kill a man that ruggedly handsome?”

You see her smiling back at you and you’re happy there’s someone finally just  _ talking  _ to you- you two don’t have any awkward history or age gap, you’re just in the same place at the same time.

You’d have to give her some chocolates or something.

* * *

Angela- she told you to call her Angela and you’d happily given her your first name, even though she knew it already- had excused you from the medical bay when your nose looked fine and told you to look out for Jesse and ask him for help. Apparently he had a bit more of a brain than the younger Japanese crime lord. 

Only a little though.

That, and you’d forgotten your gun holster at the training grounds- after making sure there was no trace of Shimada in the vicinity you’d went to pick it up and found the cowboy you were looking for, drinking some water and having a smoke while watching the recruits die by the hand of an old, grumpy Soldier.

“Hey there, cowboy,” you greet, sitting down next to him. He doesn’t look, but his grin widens just a tad.

“Hey there, pretty lil’ lady. Nice seein’ you here,” his sultry Southern voice drawls. 

“We need to talk.”

This time, he does turn- eyebrow raised and cigarette hanging lopsided in his mouth. 

“Nothing too serious,” you reassure, “it’s about your boyfriend and his bottomless pit of hatred for me. Oh, and Genji thinking us duking it out in a fist fight would help.”

You pause.

“It didn’t. It didn’t help at all,” you sigh. 

Jesse pats you on the shoulder- warm hand lingering longer than it should. You can almost count the hairs on his stubbly cheeks.

“Ya came to the right man, darlin’. But before that: I need ta know why y’ didn’t off me when y’had the chance.”

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Seems common sense not to kill a bounty hunter as a contracted killer. Might lead to awkward business meetings.”

He’s waiting for more- suggestively wagging the eyebrow that was doubtful before.

“Yes, yes, and I did kind of think you were at least decent to look at.”

You don’t actually want to admit you thought he was drop-dead gorgeous when you saw him the first time- you were still kind of young and gullible and the whole Cowboy-schtick had you feeling like a blushing Southern Belle.

You had gotten over that, though, you tell yourself while you’re mesmerized by his amazing face.

“ ‘S what I thought, pumpkin. Now, onto Hanzo-” he starts, smiling now- no grinning anymore, “he’s not extremely good at...social situations, honey.”

You were getting kind of annoyed at how he’d change up your pet name every damn sentence instead of getting on with it- but he always talks at a steady, slower pace.

“I figured that out back when I first met him. Also, if you call me anymore pet names he’s also going to suspect me of trying to steal his man. Please don’t make his situation any worse.”

“Sweetie, are you admittin’ to wantin’ to hit the sack with this ol’ horse?” he jokes but there’s an underlying promise to his tone that makes this more than just a funny jab- and he knows you know because he knows you are not dumb, “Flatterin’. Way I see it the two o’ you just need a good moment o’ peace an’ quiet, alone.”

“If you look me into a room with that guy, there will be blood. Most likely coming from two corpses,” you say it a bit more quietly.

“I can moderate. Be the buffer, cupcake. Make sure y’r pretty face don’t get mangled again.”

You had half a mind to think he was flirting with you before reminding yourself that his boyfriend was still fuming at you.

“If it means he’ll treat me with respect he can ruin this face any time. Just not when he tells me he’s better at face-ruining than me. Ticks me off.”

“Let’s not give him any ideas, ‘kay, babydoll? He’s already miffed enough as is.”

You shrug.

Jesse waits.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. If this is a repeat of Genji’s grand scheme, you are going to be living up to the ‘dead’ in ‘drop dead gorgeous’, cowboy.”

He doesn’t make a weird comment about how you’d just called him gorgeous, and you decide to forget you did that.

* * *

Jesse tells you to give it a few days, and you do just that- hanging out with Hana while she figures out the most ridiculous schemes to get 76 to remove his mask, and also spending some more time with Angela.

Angela and her very stoic girlfriend called Pharah who wears a suit of armor which you fell in love with. You’d jokingly proposed to her when Angela first introduced you and the poor girl didn’t understand what was happening, politely declining you.

It was endearing. 

You’re just lounging in the mess hall listening to some tunes and reading up on even more Talon files Winston had somehow found- you found this elusive ‘Sombra’ character especially intriguing- when Jesse finally shows up again. He’s not wearing his breastplate but still sports his ridiculous belt.

“Hey there, honey bunny. Time’s here to meet big bad Hanzo,” Jesse jokes, and you give a deep sigh in mental preparation.

“Alright. How’s his mood? Murderous? Just to know whether or not I should bring my pocket knife for self-defence.”

“He ain’t gonna kill you, honey.”

“He totally would.”

You engage in a ‘would not-totally would’ argument with Jesse until you are back at the training grounds again. You can see Hanzo already- he’s stiffly leaning against one of the vending machines in an attempt to seem casual.

It’s hilarious, but you won’t admit it out loud.

“Hey there, Hanzo,” Jesse greets and the Shimada turns- for once not greeting you with searing daggers or a demeaning glance up and down. 

“Hello,” you greet calmly, raising your hand for a quick wave.

“Hello,” he copies, not waving. That’s fine. He’s at least saying hello.

“Let’s get us a comfy place to sit, huh?”

Jesse leads the way while Hanzo follows as a close second- you decide to leave some space in the event that he decides to pounce on you.

“Now, a lil’ bird told me you two ain’t gettin’ along,” Jesse starts as he sits down on one bench that’s opposite another- Hanzo sits down by his side and you take a bench to yourself.

Your knees are touching both Hanzo and Jesse, brushing slightly. 

“What an apt little bird,” you dryly remark, before turning to Hanzo.

“We have to find a way to make it work between the two of us.”

Hanzo is looking at you and for once not scoffing or interrupting- that means progress. Maybe Jesse did get through to him.

“We’re going to have to work together at some point and I don’t want to compromise the lives of others here because we can’t talk like adults,” you continue, waiting for an affirmative response from him.

“I will agree to a cease-fire if you tell me the specifics of your mission.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I gave you the holopad with all the info?” you say- Jesse’s sheepish grin betrays that it’s not your fault Hanzo doesn’t know.

“I might’a accidentally broken that lil’ thing.”

“Jesse thought it was just the newspaper.”

You look back and forth between the two of them dryly.

“Okay, well. The elders at the Shimada castle contacted me, saying that there’d been an intruder breaking into their house every year on the same day. I took the assignment, and the rest is how it happened.”

“And you didn’t do it because they maimed you as well?” Hanzo asks- eyes looking intently into yours. 

“Duh. No better way to piss them off than to off the second assassin and let their target roam free,” you say, trying to figure out what he’s thinking- but you don’t know. It’s slightly infuriating, but at least he’s listening.

“I see. Genji told me you had come to the training grounds to seek forgiveness, and instead-”

“A broken nose happened. Not the first time,” you note, Jesse letting out a snort.

“Y’got a history of meetin’ disgruntled targets, pumpkin?”

To your surprise, Hanzo doesn’t mind Jesse explicitly brushing a hand over your knee at the pet name.

“It happens. I just want a truce between us, Hanzo,” you say then, trying not to get distracted by the flirty cowboy.

“I understand.”

You hoped that meant ‘yes’, otherwise you’d be so royally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to take a while to come- it's going to be the conclusion so it's going to be pretty long. Thanks for reading!


	5. Future - 1

Jesse looked stunning in skinny jeans and a worn flannel shirt- a lesson you learned pretty quickly while preparing for your first official Overwatch mission. Hanzo, Zaryanova and you looked positively dreary compared to Lena and Jesse- who’d both clearly thought about this.

Perhaps ‘dreary’ wasn’t the right word- Aleksandra was dressed in cheesy neon colours while you’d just stuck to your dress code as usual- a suit. Hanzo had copied your trademark outfit, only making it look even better.

That bastard.

“Sweetcheeks,” McCree starts, patting his lover on the head, “we’re goin’ to a nightclub, not a funeral.”

You turn to him in the dim lighting of the motel, where you’d all gathered.

“Jesse’s right, you three need a change of outfit,” Lena comments with crossed arms and a smile that lights up her eyes- you hadn’t really gotten to know the enigma that was Tracer that well yet but you’d found she was an incredibly nice girl.

With a tendency to talk a lot.

“I don’t have any other clothes,” you mutter, “I left them in a seedy apartment back when Hana picked me up.”

You don’t mention that you didn’t actually have any other clothes, period.

The short, brown-haired lass gives you a look-over before nodding with a certain determination and disappearing down the hall.

“Silly suits,” Zaryanova laughs, “pink is trademark nightclub colour!”

You turn to the massive woman- who was surprisingly sweet even though she had the manpower of two bears- and give her a look.

“I don’ think you’ve grasped the dress code either, pumpkin,” Jesse tells her solemnly- before you can react to her ridiculous statement, to which she seems somehow sad.

“I think you look great,” you mutter in return, and she slaps your back with the force of a thousand suns- almost sending you flying face-first into the bed. At least you were somehow getting along.

Tracer returns carrying several clothes- you don’t know where she got them, and you don’t think you want to know- throwing them around to you and Hanzo.

“I only found some jeans and tops, love, but I’m sure you’ll manage. Let your hair down as well,” she smiles- is this the equivalent of a girls’ night out? Are you experiencing this on a serious mission where you were supposed to intercept some assholes trying out human trafficking? It was surreal.

“It gets in the way,” you groan, but comply- you depart to the bathroom and change into the incredibly skinny jeans and the loose top and you feel positively naked not wearing a vest. When you go back out, Hanzo has also changed- much like McCree, the casual look suits him well. Everyone quickly looks you over with the exception of Jesse- who’s stare lingers for reasons unknown to you.

“That bad, huh? Also, where am I supposed to hide a gun on this?” you ask Lena specifically- this was her idea after all. She comes over and straps your holster around your waist- the gun sits uncomfortable but hidden right above your butt.

“See!” she is beaming- you can’t help but muster a small smile.

“Ok, you got me.”

You take a step and the hilt pokes your spine in a weird way. This was going to make it hard to be stealthy and ‘clubbing’.

* * *

It was a seedy club, alright. All kinds of ungentlemanly types were lingering at the entrance and only let you, Lena- and Zarya after they found out she towered two heads above them- in, leaving the guys to fend for themselves to find a way in there.

You did need someone stationed outside so you figured they’d find a way- you were already glad the likes of ‘glaring old soldier’ and ‘small angry engineer’ hadn’t volunteered for this particular mission, though you did feel like Lucio or D.VA would’ve been a better match compared to you.

If only for the fact that they actually went out on a regular basis and you spent most of your nights reading steamy novels in the common room.

Nonetheless, you know how bars work: and you knew that you’d be spending most of the night at the sweet taps of alcohol nectar before you’d have to get into this mission. Not that you’d be drinking actual alcohol- alright, maybe one shot- because that would compromise your integrity on this mission and you didn’t feel like having a lecture with glaring old soldier after you had a run in with him while you were downing a bottle of Jack together with McCree in the hallway.

You wrestle yourself between the writhing bodies of people of all ages- but mostly too young to be here, and too young to realize what was going on behind the scenes. They don’t part or make room for you passing through, either, which leads to you jabbing your elbow into various backs- no doubt earning you some very dirty stares, but you reach the bar after what seems like an eternity and lean on the counter with a sigh.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks- bulky and with a small scar right below his left eye. He’s wearing a suit and you take a peek behind the counter behind the guise of repositioning yourself to find that this man is, indeed, armed.

“Vodka.”

Your dry respons makes him grin and you are happy he can’t see the gun on your person, or he wouldn’t be grinning at all.

“Howdy, partner,” a sultry Western voice drawls in your ear while standing extremely close to your side- you don’t turn while you watch the bartender pour.

“I didn’t think you’d commit to the cowboy persona 24/7,” you retort, albeit with a smile, as you take the drink and go to reach for your wallet- that isn’t there. Different pants. You forgot to transfer your wallet.

Amazing.

“It’s on the house,” the barman cooes, and you give him a wink- as sultry as you can muster, which you are sure, looks ridiculous. You’d used assets to distract targets before, but you’d never used it for free drinks. New doors opened beaming with opportunities.

Could you use this on McCree to get some liquor?

Wearing the loose top makes you incredibly conscious of the warm hand leaning on the small of your back.

“I have no idea what y’re talkin’ about, darlin’,” Jesse mutters in your ear again- you’d ask him to stop but then you’d have to admit that his voice had an effect on people and you were too stubborn to go down that road.

“Sure you don’t. Any news on the mission?”

You don’t ask it quietly because the music is extremely loud, the bass throbbing in your chest- if anyone can eavesdrop in here, they deserve to intercept you.

“Nope. Zaryanova’s havin’ some fun and I can’t find the other two.”

You down the glass with a flick of your wrist and haphazardly place the glass back on the counter, letting out a slight burp at the burn of the alcohol going down your neck.

“Elegant,” Jesse jokes and his thumb strokes a small spot on your back- what is he doing? Can’t he go get handsy with Hanzo somewhere? Although Hanzo might not appreciate public signs of affection as much as Jesse does.

“You have a boyfriend who’s going to break that hand if it goes any lower,” you taunt, but firmly believe in the truth of that statement, mentally adding that said boyfriend would break your neck as well.

Just when he wasn’t thinking about killing you anymore.

“Hanzo don’t mind. Anyway, let’s get a bit more out there, ‘kay?”

You follow him while informing him of the armed barman- he doesn’t seem to care because he either knows or is still that nonchalant- and you both stop at a bar table someone had clearly spat on.

There’s a peaceful silence among the insanely loud music and yelling people- you’re both calmly scanning the perimeter, while you in particular are looking out for your tall, pink-haired buddy. If you were going into action, you wanted that woman to have your back and be close. She seemed so trustworthy.

Your attention is suddenly diverted to Jesse’s fingers tapping on the table to catch your eyes, and you lean in closer to Jesse to feel his hand slip around your waist again- grinding to the music to blend in, you level your face with his ear.

“What’s up, cowboy?”

“Zarya’s just told me we’re needed out back,” he comments, “meet me at the ladies’ room in 10 minutes. Hanzo needs some saving.”

You turn to where Jesse nods and see the archer trying to dodge unwanted advances of a very drunk woman.

“On it.”

You slip through the crowd with ease, and when you reach him, lean a hand on his arm softly before you kiss his cheek.

“Hey, honey!” you say loud enough for the girl to hear- she shoots you a venomous look.

Hanzo slips his arm around and unexpectedly pulls you flush against him for a bigger display of (faked) affection. It’s incredibly weird and you don’t trust it for a split second until you remember that he supposedly got along with you now, so it couldn’t be that weird.

Right?

“Who’s this?” the girl shouts, loud and venomous, but you don’t reckon she realizes you’ve heard way worse threats and could probably dropkick her in the stomach in a split second.

You both pause. What is the appropriate answer to this? Do you extend your hand and introduce yourself? She might tried to break it. She wouldn’t succeed, but it would be a wholly unpleasant exchange.

“My girlfriend.”

The extremely dry reply from Hanzo- filled with barely any emotion or regret- is hilarious to you, but heartbreaking to the lady in question.

“You’re just saying that,” she retorts, desperately. Your expression couldn’t be any funnier- lips pursed to avoid laughing, sneaking glances at Hanzo’s dumbfounded, stoic face and her angry one.

“I am not!” he haughtily replies- you almost crack but a glare from him makes you realize McCree is still waiting for you both.

“I indeed am the lovely girlfriend of this hunk,” you say it with so much amusement, but drag a hand up to give him a friendly tap on the cheek.

Hanzo pauses.

“Indeed you are. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

“I’m going to get laid!” you yell it out, perhaps a tad too amused, just to provoke her a tad more- Hanzo’s hand on your waist flinches and tries to tell you that was unnecessary.

Yes, unnecessary, but a little fun couldn’t hurt.

* * *

McCree is indeed waiting at the ladies’ room, checking out some people that exit- you and Hanzo had untangled not too long after leaving the awkward conversation and had settled for not talking the remainder of the distance. When you both approach the cowboy, he waves- before pointing at you and consequently to the bathroom.

“Tracer’s in there, she wanted to see you.”

You give him a salute of some sorts that confirms you’re going in there- Hanzo lingers behind and positions himself opposite of Jesse.

The bathroom is what you’d expect of a room with toilets and a sink after many drunk people have passed through- it looks sort of clean but there is the stench of puke and weed, not a good mix, and there are some suspicions stains right next to where Lena is ‘checking’ her makeup.

“Hi there, love! Having fun?”

You are sure she is just saying that to blend in, but you go to stand right next to her and poke at your eye in an effort to seem like you are fixing some mascara.

“Sure am. You?”

She shrugs.

“Not a clubbing gal. These mirrors are handy though,” she says, eyes flickering between you and said mirror, so you guess something is up with the mirror. Warily, you poke it a few times- nail giving off the slightest clicking sound when it hits the glass, and indeed.

It’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s a one-way mirror.

“What’re you saying,” you emphasize your point by clicking against the mirror a few more times, and you feel like she catches your drift, “these are just regular mirrors. Smoke too much of that sweet Mary-Jane?”

Tracer looks at you like you are a grandmother trying to fit in, which, you have to admit, you seemingly are.

“Let’s go back to the floor,” she giggles, locking arms with you and skipping outside- while you are, she leans in.

“Nobody calls it ‘Mary-Jane’ anymore, love.”

You give an angry shrug, clearly not interested in what they actually call it- heck, you weren’t exactly hired for your expert small talk.

When you are out of the toilet and rejoined with gorgeous™ and gorgeous-er™ they are seemingly waiting for you two to say something amazing.

“There’s one-way mirrors in the toilets,” Lena says, “reckon that’s where they pick out the girls.”

Your eyes follow a drunk girl stumbling away while wiping some puke off of her face, and turn to your companions.

“This is not the ideal place for such a conversation, I-”

_“Hello, old people! I come bringing news.”_

Hana’s voice blares through all of your communicators at once- you know this because you are not the only one startled by the sudden sounds.

“Hana,” Hanzo dryly retorts.

_“Ding, ding, ding, correct! Look, I figured you guys might want to know what you’re up against. There’s a hallway where all the henchmen are located and I’m sending Zarya to one of the control rooms to deal with one group.”_

“Alone?” Lena asks incredulously.

_“I was hoping one of you would join her.”_

“I’ll go,” you volunteer- you want to get out of these clothes as fast as possible.

“Great, thanks! I’ll leave you to it.”

The line falls silent and you all spend a split second looking at each other like a bunch of idiots.

“Alright, you go find Zarya then. I’ll go out back and round up anyone trying to get away,” Tracer delegates- you give a nod at the mention of your task.

“We’ll go look for any o’ them anomalies ‘round the perimeters,” Jesse slurs, tapping Hanzo with his elbow and wagging his eyebrow.

“Jesse McCree, if that is a metaphor for a blowjob-” you start before the communicator starts up again.

_“Gross! Don’t say things like that!”_

“Hana, go back to your game.”

_“Fine!”_

Lena shrugs apologetically at you.

“It ain’t. We’ll be lookin’ for actual anomalies, honey,” Jesse grins at you, “but I like yer thinkin’.”

* * *

“Would you boys happen to know where I can find kidnapped, drugged young ladies?”

Your voice echoes slightly in the control room- you enjoy the thrill of them all startling and turning to you but you enjoy seeing Zarya’s shadow-y figure behind the main man even more.

Especially because it took you long enough to find the particular control room and consequently, Zarya.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Irrelevant,” you wave the question away and sit yourself down on one of the desks, legs crossed and gun drawn. You’re not actually going to shoot yet- you didn’t pack any extra ammunition so you’d have to get some from these guys after they were subdued.

“Now,” you continue, “I asked a question and would like a reply within 10 seconds before something wholly unpleasant might happen.”

No such luck- the guy in the middle with a fancy undercut and slight stubble cocks and aims his gun right at your chest.

Zarya, noticing the imminent threat, easily picks him up and holds him down- gun clattering to the ground.

“Tell друг where girls are or I crush you like jelly,” Zarya says, easily fitting in with the crowd. The woman was positively terrifying when she tried, which was a huge change in attitude from when she was giving you friendly pats on the back because you liked her neon outfit.

“We’re not going to give away anything to you fucks!” another henchman yells and you can’t help your laugh. Their eyes widen slightly.

“Let me tell you something,” you smile, “a little tip from someone who’s been around _very_ shady businesses. The thing that separates the dead bandits from the ones who are alive is being able to identify threats. This,” you point at yourself, “is hardly a relevant threat for you. My good friend over there is very much a real threat.”

Zarya gives a sweet smile at the fact that you call her a good friend- and gives you a small thumbs up. Man, how could such a muscle mass be so cute?

You insert a pause, which gives them time to contemplate coming for you.

“Of course,” you point out before they try anything, pointing your gun specifically at the goods of the guy on the left, “I’d advise you to take me seriously when I say I have a trigger finger and my gun is pointed straight at your babymaker.”

“You can’t kill us if you want information,” the guy on the left- at least he has balls, which will make firing at them easier- starts, “we’re needed.”

Zarya looks at you for confirmation, and you give a shrug.

“I never said I needed you to tell me. I just wanted to ask nicely. I also never said I would kill you. ‘Severely damage’ is not out of the way.”

The grin that blooms on Zaryanova’s face is a grin of kinship and you have to admit, you’d never be this confident out in the open if it wasn’t for the fact that she was right there, crushing a man with one arm.

“Now, one more time. Where’s the girls?”

They share a few looks before they throw a key card at you- you catch it flawlessly and you praise whoever out there that you didn’t clumsily drop it- before also dropping their weapons. You jump down from the desk and approach them all.

“They’re in the truck, ready to be shipped off-”

That’s all the information you need, you figure, as does Zarya while she headbutts the man in her arm and he slumps, lifeless- you kick the guns of the other two away before you knee one of them in the dick. You’re glad Tracer let you wear your heels.

He squats down in pain, and you can hear Zarya dealing with the other one.

“If you’re coming after us, or if we ever see your face here again, you are going to die a very, very painful death.”

You whisper it sincerely, relieved by the fact that when they run out of here they’ll be met with a very hyper Tracer rounding them up.

“There should be truck with girls,” Zarya says into the communicator, “we have key card.”

_“You got that information so fast?”_ Jesse’s voice is cracked and metallic through the communicator and you turn your microphone on.

“Excuse me, bounty hunter, but I did do this as a job. Don’t belittle me professionally,” you say it with a lot of sass, but also a big grin.

_“Jus’ showin’ a lil’ appreciation for yer marvelous work, sweetcheeks.”_

_“We are on a mission. Can we continue?”_ Hanzo now joins- voice terse and serious. Party pooper. You wouldn’t mind some more compliments.

“I will find truck. You find other men and take them down,” Zarya tells you, taking the key card, and you give a nod.

_“Will you be alright all by yer onesie, pumpkin?”_

You count the guns- you have your AMT hardballer still fully loaded, as well as what looks like a Rattler pistol, large and with a a few magazines you could get off of the main man, and an array of handguns from the other two.

“Depending on the amount, perfectly fine,” you stick one of the handguns back in the holster on your back, stick the extra magazines down in your bra- even though that is extremely uncomfortable, but these pants didn’t leave room for anything- and hold the Rattler in your one hand.

_“I will back you up,”_ Hanzo says while you hear him running.

_“I’ll wait for you, Zarya. Don’ leave me hangin’ all alone too long.”_

* * *

The heaving bass coming from the club feels like a song you’d turn on for a workout- only the workout is a surprise and possibly deadly.

When you turn a corner, you find not 3 or 5 henchmen- but at least 15. You can’t pinpoint how many there are, exactly, because you immediately turn back and get the Rattler ready for some rattling.

“Who was that?!” a surprisingly high voice demands- murmurs of ‘huh, I don’t know’ echoing over the upturned music.

You lick your lips before throwing one of your shoes out into the hallway as a distraction- it proves successful, seeing as how you can at least fire one round without being interrupted.

“WHO IS THAT?!”

The yelling is now accompanied by gunshots- they’re advancing on you, but it’s hardly worrying. A very weirdly placed vending machine provides the perfect cover, although marching along with one shoe isn’t as easy as you imagined.

“Did you get her?” another voice asks quietly, gunshots finally dying down.

_“Love, did you and Zarya take out these three lads?”_

You raise an eyebrow at Tracer’s question while you reload the Rattler carefully.

“Yeah, that was us. Kind of busy at the moment, though.”

_“Oh! Sorry! I’ll leave you to it.”_

Various hushed cries depicting your gender escape the crowd you are out to incapacitate.

“Whoever you are, if you come out now we might be able to reach some kind of deal.”

You can’t help your snort.

“Try the rookie tactics on a rookie next time, sucker,” you retort, holding the gun so you can fire wildly in any open direction- you hear several cries, among which ‘my leg!’ which sounds like someone is on the verge of crying- and when you come out of hiding, you find only three are left standing, guns pointed. Everyone else is clutching at open wounds, and you have to scold yourself for doing this so messily.

Can’t be helped, you guess.

“So, Mexican stand-off?” you drop the rattler and take out another handgun to join your AMT.

“Where the hell did you come from?” the man with the higher voice says- he looks sleazy. Beer belly, greasy suit, slicked back hair and a cigar dangling lifelessy from his lips. He either came straight out of the shower or straight out of a comic.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to say that. I’m kind of new to this,” you shrug. They are, once again, surprised by that, and you take the chance to fire two clean bullets into his bodyguards’ heads.

They slump to the ground.

“Now, any last words?” you smile sweetly, tucking the handgun away so you can aim your AMT perfectly.

“You are-”

An arrowhead appears through his neck and he gurgles, dropping down with hesitation before he makes no more noises. You can see Hanzo standing with one foot atop a guy that had been shot in the chins and is still wailing a little.

“I had this,” you pout, hobbling over to where you threw your shoe. Hanzo stops you- hand on your shoulder, calloused and warm through his glove- and you notice that without heels you have to look up at him.

“You could have compromised your life,” he states, dead serious, searching your eyes for an explanation.

“We’re on a clock. Are the girls safe?” you smile- you are happy that he has gone from trying to kill you with glaring to something resembling worry.

“Jesse and Zaryanova took care of it. They will be expecting us.”

You are both locked in a bit of a stare after that, until you realize that your shoe is still waiting there for you, all alone, and that his hand is still on your shoulder.

“Yes. Yes, let me get my shoe and we can go.”

He hesitantly does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am busy with searching for a job, 3 startups and trying other stuff out but I am not leaving any story ;) Next up is working on Incapacitated and Banana Slippers. And the other story ideas I have planned out. I'll get there. Thanks for your support!


	6. Future - 2

A few months had passed rather quietly after your first mission, mainly because you were softly pushed into more of a supportive position- “ _ I fear you might be a bit too vigilante for our vigilante organisation, much like Soldier: 76 _ ” Winston had said- but it was far from quiet.

You blamed the Australian junkers who had joined not too long after, of which the lanky one would not stop bugging you for money. He apparently got it into his head that because you wore a suit, you were the gal with the money, and he had to find a way to get it from you.

Time after time, he was disappointed, but he was starting to grow on you a bit.

And then all hell broke loose when a purple lady, some punk girl and some dude who was way too obsessed with black had landed on the base, one mellow Spring morning while you were just sipping a cappuccino.

Needless to say, your work life had become a lot more hectic.

Despite this, though, you hadn’t forgotten about certain things you should have buried deep beneath your unconsciousness months ago. Like how you’d still feel Jesse’s thumb ghosting circles along your lower back, or Hanzo’s rather poignant stare amidst crying thugs. You’d been pretty starved of affection, partly by choice and partly by necessity, and this caused almost every interaction you had with people here to linger, but of those two in particular.

Besides that, there was Angela’s amazing ability to always come drink coffee at the same time as you would saunter into the kitchen in the afternoon, D.VA’s harsh but amicable taunts, the junker and his insatiable thirst for money.

Even the sour purple lady sniper and her appreciation for your past deeds.

Perhaps those interactions were less impactful because you had them almost every day, and you had to admit you hadn’t seen as much of the archer and cowboy as they were on missions a lot lately, and mostly together.

“Are you daydreaming, schätzchen?” Angela calls out, pouring coffee as your head raises in a salute.

“I’ve been thinking about how I can avoid Junkrat for more than 5 minutes at a time,” you sigh, turning another page of your novel. Boots clank and you see the very unexpected presence of the older soldier enter as well.

You honestly thought he was an omnic and didn’t visit the kitchen, even though Zenyatta did come by every so often for the personal contact. 

“You and me both,” he hums in agreement, and you decide not to ask how the junker had been getting on his nerves- you’d learned asking Soldier questions rarely provided any answers. If he wanted to explain, he would.

“Either way, what brings this lovely company into the kitchen at this hour? Isn’t someone supposed to be monitoring D.VA and Sombra?”

A tap of Angela’s fingers, an angry growl from Soldier.

“We decided that it would be better for our mental health not to do that,” Angela smiles, polite as ever- but you can see a hint of ‘I am not equipped to handle those two’ shining in her blue eyes.

“Good choice,” you smirk, closing the novel slightly- you felt a conversation coming on.

“That said, how are you integrating into the Overwatch lifestyle?” Angela continues, 76 shooting her a look, “what with it getting so busy here, and you used to work all alone for a while.”

“It’s quite alright. I’ve managed to analyze everyone’s weaknesses to some degree so I’m at ease and I also feel a pang of joy everytime I manage to get Junkrat to chase Genji for robot parts.”

Payback was a bitch, after all, and you still hadn’t forgotten that it was Genji who ultimately gave Hanzo a chance to break your nose.

“He did say he was more stressed out lately,” Angela sighs, but she’s smiling- so you know she sees the humour in that situation as well, “but we can enjoy a bit of schadenfreude every once in a while.”

“Winston took you off missions,” Soldier states quite abruptly after Angela, and you give a shrug.

“Apparently I’m a bit too vigilante.”

Your words aren’t chosen carefully at all where you’d normally get defensive- after all, it was kind of a jab at your professionalism. But you did understand that this was an organisation mostly built by goody-two-shoes and maintained by a whole bunch of do-gooders compared to you, the Talon fugitives and the Australian junkers.

That said, you also didn’t quite want to be categorized as a previous terrorist. You chose your work ethically and didn’t try to plot government shutdowns or elaborate schemes to take over countries.

Even though Sombra had tried talking you into sharing your information with her, which was met with you chucking your book at her playfully and telling her to come up with better ways to convince you. As of this day, she hadn’t yet.

And that included the time she offered to take you to a strip club.

“Winston can be harsh when it comes to that. Doesn’t know what to do with actual soldiers,” 76 remarks, grunting, but Angela tuts her lips.

“He means well. I think he just doesn’t like all the paperwork involved when there’s deaths at a mission.”

You nod in agreement to that- the gorilla was almost buried in slightly dusty office paper every time you saw him. And considering his room was on your way to the mess hall, you saw him a lot.

* * *

You didn’t talk to Zenyatta very often, despite him often appearing wherever you were seeking some kind of small talk. You were of the personal belief that people could do whatever they pleased- whether that was harassing people in suits for money, trying to bribe people into sharing information or meditating at the weirdest places on the Gibraltar base- but you had kind of started ignoring him since Genji was around the monk constantly.

It was a quiet afternoon, when you were having a late lunch because you finished some data mining for Winston, when the Omnic sat himself down across from you at the table.

“How is your food?” he asks, kindly- his robotic eyes always seem to be smiling.

“Good. Kind of missing some seasoning, though, but I don’t know who cooks around here,” you reply, shrugging.

“How’s meditating?” you ask in quick succession- not wanting an awkward silence to bloom because talking about food wasn’t too fruitful.

“It is good. I was wondering if you’d been able to figure out the strained situations with the Shimadas.”

You stop eating your steak for a second, looking at him with one piece hanging lopsidedly out of your mouth.

“Hanzo doesn’t want to kill me anymore, but I’m still kind of pissed off at Genji since he indirectly gave me a broken nose,” you say- trying to eat the piece of meat properly but failing. It falls back onto your plate and you hastily put it back in your mouth.

“Perhaps it would be good to talk to Genji,” Zenyatta smiles- sort of- as he starts folding a stray napkin.

“Perhaps. Perhaps he can come to me and apologize.”

If he’s taken aback by your sour tone and rude manners, he doesn’t show it- something to give him props for, considering the substantial amount of rude people around here. Especially the newest addition previously called ‘Reaper’. 

Not that you knew what you were actually supposed to call him because he didn’t really hang out with anyone, so you figured he didn’t want to be called by whatever name they’d given him here.

“Also a good point. You are very direct when it comes to things like this, are you not?” Zenyatta asks, relaxing just a tad more- you wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t trained yourself over the years to notice small signs in body language.

“I wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it if it weren’t for the fact that he got Hanzo to punch me.”

“It is understandable, it’s far from a pleasant feeling. He asked me to mellow your feelings about the matter,” the monk says, putting down the folded napkin- he’d managed to make a swan out of it. Neat. 

“Won’t mellow until he steps up to the plate and owns his mistake. He’s a good kid, he got me this job...kind of...but I ain’t backing down,” you state, finishing up your plate and licking your lips for good measure. That was a good steak.

“You sound like the cowboy.”

You pause and give the monk the dryest look you can muster- which is, in your opinion, pretty seething as well- at the implication that you are starting to act like the gorgeous cosplayer.

Zenyatta calmly gets back up and hands you a note.

“Genji would like to meet you. Please consider it.”

You give a nod and put it in one of your suit pockets.

* * *

It had been a few days since Zenyatta had talked to you- there hadn’t been anything exciting happening except for Reaper and Soldier fighting in the gym and then consequently disappearing into Soldier’s room for God knows what reason- and Pharah had called you to ask for a favour.

“ _ It’s our 3 year anniversary and Winston wants me to do this mission, but I can’t call off Angela now, _ ” she sighs into the mic from wherever she is- you hear the roaring of big wheels on concrete so you’re guessing she’s returning from a mission somewhere.

“What kind of mission is it? Because Winston doesn’t want me doing field work at the moment, honey.”

“ ‘ _ Honey’ _ ?”

You ignore the incredulous tone at you using a pet name, much like a certain cowboy.

“Focus, Pharah.”

“ _ It’s not field work. Just monitoring Jesse and Hanzo, and the junkers, out on a mission. _ ”

“That sounds pretty chill.”

“ _ It is. If you don’t have a girlfriend who’s been preparing for this date for over 5 months. _ ”

“I’ll do it if you give me all the details of how it went,” you smile- after all, the romance between Fareeha and Angela was almost like a fairytale, wholesome and sweet.

“ _ Deal. I’ll tell Winston, warm him up to the idea _ .”

* * *

Winston needed a few days of warming up to it. You had guessed it was because he’d fallen asleep and a stack of paperwork had hit him in the head and rendered him unconscious for a few days, but apparently it was because now D.VA was hellbent on joining you.

No doubt to annoy the fuck out of you.

Nonetheless, he took a day to explain how exactly all the systems and computers worked- told you how to use the different channels on the headset. Up until now, you just always counted on someone else to figure things out and call you appropriately.

“Hanzo, can you come in and tell me where the hell Junkrat is hanging out? He’s on the complete opposite of the screen.”

“ _ He...wanted to change the plan. Roadhog is talking him out of it, _ ” Hanzo curtly replies, but there’s something about his tone of voice that gives your stomach the satisfied flutters of friendship. 

“Cool. What’s the number for his channel again?” you ask- forgetting that there’s a screen with those exact numbers to your left. You hadn’t ever done this before. It was all very overwhelming.

“ _ 412 _ .”

“Chill. You two hang out there while I give this guy a rambling.”

Hanzo doesn’t confirm your request but being silent means agreeing- at least in your book.

“Hey, you piece of shit trash collector,” you start, “get back to where cowboy and archer are or so help me I will steal that leg and hide it for 5 months.”

There is complaining- but not through Junkrat’s microphone. You are pretty sure it’s Roadhog’s channel, because you hear a definite grunt after a long explanation and the subsequent thumping of boots.

“No need to get your knickers in a twist, sheila, ol’ Roadhog ‘ere has helped me perfect my master plan.”

“Wonderful,” you sarcastically reply before the mission continues quite smoothly- at least for day 1.

Once you’re sure they’re all at the hotel and getting ready for bed- considering tomorrow was the bigger day of the few-day mission- you casually grab your almost-empty mug of coffee.

You’re just refilling it- casually side-eyeing the screen every so often to make sure you don’t miss anything  _ just in case _ , when you hear a noise that doesn’t quite fit the mission narrative.

In fact, it doesn’t fit any narrative- it’s a sound you’d only expect to hear back in your dingy hotel room because the walls were too thin and there were several holes in them- but it’s in the screeching silence of the meeting room, so very obvious.

_ “Nn, Jesse-” _

You can’t remember when you’d ever stared at a screen this horrified before- you probably hadn’t. 

_ “Why don’t ya take off them robes right about now, darling?” _ the cowboy’s voice cooes back, and it’s clear they have taken off their microphones- just not turned them off. You were guessing the devices were left somewhere on a table, or whatever- whatever feng shui those cosplayers decided to apply didn’t matter right now- but that also meant you’d have to be quite loud to notify them of the error.

You’d asked Winston, this morning, if there was a way to turn off microphones remotely- jokingly adding you were afraid Junkrat might bug you all day- and he had, albeit smirking, replied that was not possible.

So now you were stuck in this conundrum. 

“Hello,” you start, just speaking- the moans continue, so that’s not working. 

“Base to Hanzo and McCree,” you turn up the volume of your voice a tad, but they’re not quitting- you could swear you heard the slapping of flesh against flesh and you close your eyes in an unfortunate attempt not to hear them.

You let out a small cough before getting out your loudest voice- “ **THE MICROPHONES ARE STILL ON, DUMBASSES** .”

Only when you hear the rush of clothing and hisses right before they actually turn off the microphones are you relieved enough to open your eyes again.

“ _ Lookie ‘ere, sheila, some of us are tryin’ to catch some of that sweet naptime, eh? _ ” Junkrat says suddenly- scaring the bejeesus out of you even though for once he was not yelling at you- and you give a sigh.

“My name is not Sheila and I wasn’t talking to you, Junkrat. I doubt you even know how to turn off the microphone.”

It’s said with a smile, but you are quite certain he takes your taunt seriously- your claim is confirmed when the microphone goes off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at writing Junkrat. And Roadhog.


	7. Future - End

You were absolutely livid. Mainly because you knew neither Jesse nor Hanzo were too dumb to leave their microphones on ‘accidentally’, even if they were damn good at pretending- and you were also angry because somehow hearing the archer groan out the cowboy’s name had made your nether regions tingle.

And in your haste to stand up to go get a glass of cold milk, you’d knocked the remaining coffee in your cup right onto your lap. 

It was the grandiose start of 3 hours of sleeplessness, waiting for something- anything, D.VA coming in or Winston releasing you from this hot hell you’d been cast into, or even a  _ fucking  _ apology from those two- while worrying about how they were compromising the integrity of the mission and your mental health because they had to fuck in a seedy motel.

God, you wanted to stop thinking about it.

It’s 3 hours and 13 minutes later when the headache really starts hurting and your eyes are drooping to the point where you can’t see straight, when there’s a call from McCree’s line.

“Jesse McCree, I don’t want to talk about your clearly healthy and active sex life over tapped microphones. Think of poor Winston,” you sound cheerful but that’s just because you’re too tired to tap into your unbridled rage.

_ “Darlin’, I warned him ‘bout this. No need to worry.” _

“That doesn’t make it any less awkward when D.VA storms in to tell me who won the tournament.”

_ “What tournament?” _

“Some Esport thing she was following. I don’t even know what Esports are.”

_ “I see. Just noticed ya listened an awful long while to Hanzo gettin’ all-” _

“Don’t.”

_ “Just sayin’, honey.” _

“If I want cheesy cowboys talking about sex, I have several professionals I can talk to.”

_ “Yet you’re still talkin’ to me, aren’t you?” _

He had you and he wasn’t letting go of his verbal deathgrip on you- something so annoying to you- especially in your tired state of mind- considering you didn’t like losing arguments to the flirt. It felt like being in a sort of sexy German suplex but with words.

“I just don’t want you spewing this to Junkrat and then having him come over and ask me how sex works. That, and it’s extremely unprofessional to be grinding it up while you know there is someone listening. Don’t be coy with me.”

_ “Honey, you’ll have to lose that stick up your butt sometime. Me ‘n Hanzo just...wanna help out, ya hear?” _

“I’m hearing but I don’t think I’m processing.”

McCree’s warm laugh fills your ear- you’re wondering if Hanzo is actively listening to this mess of a conversation, as well. You hope he’s not. He might decide killing both Jesse and you would be the better way out rather than letting this continue.

“Does Hanzo know you make these kind of propositions to random people?”

_ “Ain’t nobody said anythin’ about random people. ‘S far as I know you ‘n I are the only ones talkin’ right now.” _

“Alright, does Hanzo know you make these kind of propositions to  _ me _ ?”

_ “ ‘F course he does. Sittin’ right here as we speak.” _

You start spitting out your coffee- fearful for another leak onto your newly-washed and dried but now very dirty clothes- but stop yourself, resulting in a very unfortunate gurgling noise.

_ “You dyin’ over there, sweetpea?” _

“Not quite,” you cough, “not quite. So you’re serious?”

_ “Contrary to popular belief, I am most often serious.” _

“Good, then get serious about the mission before your dick gets you in trouble.”

He laughs a deep, warm, Southern laugh- you manage to take an actual sip of coffee during his moment of amusement.

_ “I’ll get back to my sexy archer man then, darlin’, but just know we’re open to the conversation.” _

You can almost hear him wink.

“Sure, sure. Apologize to Hanzo for your scandalous behaviour while you’re at it.”

* * *

You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You’d even tried meditating during one of the sneakier parts of the mission they were completing, but everytime you would hear either men speak McCree’s ludicrous proposal would sound in your ears and you’d promptly start losing your shit.

You hadn’t been this flustered since 12 years ago, where someone had mistaken you for a date and flirted with you for two days until you straight up told him you were there to kill someone and he was making your job a living hell.

He was, kind of, because he was making you hot and bothered 24/7- much like the unlikely duo you’d somehow gotten involved with without your knowledge.

“You’ve been very quiet.”

D.VA’s voice scares the shit out of you, even though you were supposed to be a contract killer and 19 year olds shouldn’t be able to scare you, when she sticks her head in the doorway and looks at you funny.

“D.VA-”

“Tut-tut. None of that. You clearly have something on your mind because you have usually told me off by now. I’m taking over, go take a break,” she smiles, and your heart warms at the sheer maturity and kindness this little devil suddenly displays- you honestly thought she was about as jaded, if not more, than you.

“Yes, mom. Make sure to ask Yee-Haw and ‘I’m obsessed with honor’ to turn their microphones off if they’re not working,” you warn her, grabbing your things and patting her on the shoulder before seeing the blinding hallway lights.

“You really need to go to bed,” she sighs, sitting herself down together with some kind of console.

* * *

You were lying in bed- after a short lecture of Soldier: 76 about how you weren’t supposed to drag your coffee mug along the walls no matter how angry you were, and a quick stop at Angela’s for a cookie and a hello- face down, completely battered and exhausted but just exhausted enough not to be able to fall asleep. Until your cell phone starts making unholy noises at you.

“Hello,” you slur, “you’ve reached the voicemail of none of your business. Please don’t leave a message and let me sleep.”

“ _ Charmin’ _ .”

“Jesse, please. I need to sleep before-” you pause, trying to think of something intelligent, “I just need to sleep, alright?”

“ _ Sure, honey. Jus’ wanted to tell you to meet us at the garden tomorrow at 2 in the afternoon _ .”

“How’d you even get my number? Did you harass Winston so you could harass me? That’s not gentlemanly at all, cowboy,” you continue slurring, not really minding the fact that you can’t go to sleep if you keep talking to the person keeping you awake, but you’ve also already forgotten what he said.

“ _ You gave it to me after specifically statin’ you would one day need me for back-up after tryin’ to prank Junkrat a good 3 weeks ago _ ,” he responds, sounding very amused at your sleepiness.

“Well,” you snort, “delete it then. I’ll do that prank by myself, someday. Maybe not tomorrow considering I still haven’t slept. Courtesy of you. Thanks, cowboy.”

You hear him chuckle, rich and warm- to your tired brain it sounds endearing, the way he chuckles when you sarcastically tell him things. You wonder if that’s the reason why he and Hanzo just...work, despite being very different.

“ _ Well, I’ll be the gentleman you’re hopin’ and prayin’ for and I’ll leave you to it, sweetcheeks. Oh, Hanzo also wanted to say somethin’ _ .”

“Why are you two treating this situation like it’s just two parents calling their kid while they’re on vacation? It’s almost time to get back up again for me.”

“ _ Hello _ ,” you hear, musing that they must’ve passed the blasted thing while you were reminding them you needed to go to bed, “ _ Jesse has...said some things _ .”

“Yeah, congrats. He did. Are you going to get to the point any time soon, handsome archer?” you dryly note, not even noticing the slip but noticing how nice it is to hear Hanzo’s voice. Even early in the morning. And even if you are still awkward about their sexcapades.

“ _ Despite his demeanor, we meant it. This is far from the opportune moment _ -”

“You are, truly, an idiot sometimes.”

A splutter on the other side and Jesse in the back saying you don’t mean that, but you definitely do.

“Get to the point, Hanzo.”

“ _ There is none, I’m afraid. Sleep well. _ ”

You could only stare at your phone- he sounded like a defeated and very confused puppy who just learned that while humans can give him food, they can also take it away- and despite wanting to analyze why exactly that made you feel bad, you were now stuck thinking about puppies.

* * *

You didn’t know how or when you fell asleep, but you knew that it was so very welcome that you slept for about 8 hours straight- and woke up to the sweet sounds of people mercilessly banging on your door.

Dishevelled- you were still wearing your shirt, a bra and some boxershorts you’d found stashed away and that were  _ very  _ comfy- you dragged yourself to the door with a bedhead and what was no doubt panda-eyes because you left some mascara and eyeliner on last night.

“Who’s there?” you ask while your hand is pausing on the button to make the door slide open- despite the Gibraltar base being ruined, it was still pretty modern in some ridiculous manners.

“We had a two o’clock appointment, darlin’,” you hear McCree- you’re guessing he’s not angry considering you can somehow hear the smile in his voice.

The door hisses open and you are face to face with casual Dumb and Dumber, but this time they actually look casual- for some reason Hanzo is wearing a really ridiculous shirt that you’ve never seen before and never want to see again- and McCree has lost all of his cowboy attributes save for the hat and his silly belt.

“Wow,” the cowboy says- almost breaking out in laughter, “I can see why you didn’t make it.”

“There’s a few reasons why,” you start, menacingly leaning against the doorframe, “first off, you didn’t let me sleep. Secondly, I was so sleep-deprived the entire conversation is a mystery to me save for the fact that we probably talked about puppies at some point, and thirdly, if this is about your proposition, I’d rather discuss it in the privacy of one of our rooms. After taking a bath by sneaking into Mercy’s room next door. And having a coffee.”

“We did not talk about puppies-” Hanzo starts, but is quickly cut off by Jesse.

“Alright, alright. We’ll let y’clean up an’ then you can let us inside for a talk, sweetie. Make sure to hurry before we help y’take a bath,” he winks, doing that thing where he’s clearly thinking he has already gotten you into his bed.

You close the door without another word. 

The bath does you good- well, it’s not a bath, it’s a shower, and you’d have to tell Tjorbjörn to fix the heating because it is consistently warm for 1 minute and cold for 5- and despite your small wardrobe you manage to find a training outfit lying around somewhere.

* * *

“Now you can enter my humble abode,” you joke, pointing inside- Jesse quickly takes to leaning on the barren table and Hanzo awkwardly sits himself down on the bed while you lean against the door.

“So. Your...propositions,” you start, not really looking at either of them. Hanzo gives a curt cough. 

“You haven’t had coffee yet,” Hanzo says, and you snort.

“I’m sure I can handle this without the sweet release of caffeine because I doubt it’s serious anyway.”

McCree pushes himself off of the table relatively quickly, striding forward until he’s only a few inches away from you, smiling.

“Ya can doubt the integrity of many things I do, darlin’, but I take relationships very serious.”

You can’t help glancing at his lips and you know he notices, because your breath is hitching and you notice his eyebrows are just as bushy as his beard and sideburns and they are slightly raised at your obvious glances.

“Don’t play on the fact that I’ve been having a dry spell to fulfill one of your threesome fantasies,” you swallow, forcing yourself to keep up the no-care charade, “involving a random person into your relationship, specifically one you both used to hate,” you shoot a look at Hanzo who can’t help but agree silently, “is a recipe for disaster and I’ll have none of it.”

“Honey, we’ve been thinking ‘bout this ever since you pummeled Hanzo’s pretty face an’ we are very serious.”

You can’t help leaning sideways to shoot a questioning look at Hanzo.

“You got the hots for me after we both broke our nose?” you ask, eyebrow raised. You mainly wonder why the archer is so damn quiet when his boyfriend is doing all the talking.

“I haven’t been bested a lot,” Hanzo mutters, quietly- you’re lucky your hearing is still good now that you’re properly awake again, “it...made me think.”

“Think with your crotch?” you shoot back, still thinking this is a farce, “because this guy is clearly thinking with his crotch.”

You wave a hand toward the cowboy who’s now also raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you think this is just an…” Hanzo’s clearly getting a little bit riled up, “an intercourse thing?”

You snort, partly at his pause before saying ‘sex’ and partly because the more you do that, the more you can keep your distance from them.

“Because why would it be anything else? I can’t bring anything to this relationship. I haven’t properly conversed with people before his Overwatch thing. If you’d know what you were getting into: a dose of attention-starved, emotionally-vulnerable vagina with a mouth, you wouldn’t be here. That, and I really haven’t gotten the feeling that either of you are in love with me. So it must be the crotch thing.”

Jesse and Hanzo share a look before the cowboy carefully takes your still-floating hand, leading you to the bed and sitting you down next to the archer before crouching down in front of you.

“While lil’ Jesse definitely notices your presence in this room, you can’t seriously not ‘ave seen the signs, sweet cheeks?”

You look him in the eyes and give his cheek a pat.

“Calling me pet names isn’t love, McCree. You do that to everyone. Also, don’t call it ‘little Jesse’, it’s a penis, and it’s weird.”

“We’ve both stared at you a lot,” Hanzo says, if that solves it all- and doesn’t just admit to them being weirdos. You want to throw in a sarcastic remarks but Jesse’s fingers ghost over the hand on his cheek before he firmly starts holding it.

“We’re serious, darlin’. We’ve talked about this a lot, the two o’ us. Y’don’t have to commit to anythin’ you don’ want, but if you wanna give it a try,” he almost is whispering, “we’re right here.”

You aren’t looking at him because it’s damn embarrassing- and with Hanzo sitting right next to you, that’s no place to look either- so you’re staring at the door with the slightest blush on your cheeks. You’re mainly thinking; the worst that could happen was that you’d never speak to either of them again, and they would collectively ignore you. The best was finally having some romance in your life that was seemingly genuine.

It seemed worth a shot, if it weren’t for the fact that this shot might turn back and hit you right in the heart.

“Okay,” you start, talking slowly and much less confident compared to how you usually talk, “how about...one kiss. From either of you. And then we’ll...see.”

The room is eerily quiet for a few seconds before a hand pulls your chin- softly, and you’re guessing it’s Hanzo because McCree’s real hand is holding your hand and the other is definitely not metal- back to the conversation at hand, and you are pulled into Hanzo’s intent stare.

You can’t help leaning in slowly- you’ve always thought the clean, dark blue eyes were such a big contrast to his constant scowl.

“This is alright for you?” he asks- breath ghosting on your lips as his thumb strokes your cheek. 

God, he was good.

“If it’s alright for your cowboy boyfriend, I don’t mind,” you smile, even though inside alarm bells are going off and you have a sincere fight-or-flight response to the proximity. Hearing your consent and casting a quick look to Jesse- who no doubt is agreeing to it, you’re sure, because he is clearly horny- Hanzo leans in until your noses are touching.

“Not breaking my nose this time, huh?” you joke, awkwardly, feeling McCree make circular motions with his thumb on your hand as if to calm you down. If he knew how stressed you were about this, you’d have to work on your poker face.

Hanzo doesn’t say anything but you close your eyes when you feel your lips touch- he’s careful, slow, making sure it doesn’t become too much at once. But when he hears you let out the tiniest moan- you hadn’t been kissed for a  _ long  _ time- his other hand nestles into your damp hair and pushes you closer, getting intenser every second. It’s a strange feeling, considering your rocky relationship with the man, but you can’t deny how your stomach flutters.

Until you have to pull away to catch your breath and carefully pull back.

“Well?” the cowboy asks- knowing what your answer will be, surely, but it’s pretty polite- and you notice only the hand in your hair trails down and joins Hanzo’s other hand, cupping your cheeks.

“I might’ve been somehow,” you keep looking into those beautiful blue eyes and you feel like you might get hypnotized, “persuaded.”

Convinced, Jesse finally moves the hand you’d been holding up against his cheek and kisses your knuckles with a softness you couldn’t have guessed the cowboy possessed, scruff tickling your fingers.

“We have to report to Winston,” Hanzo says- he’s still scowling because you doubt he ever does anything else, but his eyes are smiling.

“What, Winston is in on this?!” you say, baffled- the gorilla hardly seemed invested in the various relationships on base.

“No, the mission, darlin’. We have to go report about the mission,” McCree laughs, and while it definitely sounded good before, it has gotten even more of a feel-good vibe to it now.

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” you huff.

“Tonight, our room? We’ll bring some o’ that booze you like,” the cowboy winks before standing up and giving your hand one last kiss for good measure- the archer finally lets your face go but not before another intent look at it.

“Sure, sure, I’ll be there. I’ll bring some snacks.”

“We’re not hostin’ a teaparty, honey. Bring some nice lingerie-”

“All of my clothes were left way back when, I don’t have any.”

“You’ll figure somethin’ out,” the cowboy winks again before Hanzo closes the door, and you could swear you heard the Shimada chuckle.

* * *

“I need your sexiest lingerie set,” you state, stone-faced and leaning on Mercy’s desk trying to use your cleavage as a way of convincing her- even though she was dating Fareeha, and that girl could kill you easily with her magical flying armor.

“You called me and said it was an emergency,” Angela dryly says back to you, not even looking up from her paperwork. You slap a hand down on it- just like in the books you read, even though you are not a handsome person trying to get into a steamy romance with a doctor- and lean forward.

“It is. Very emergency-ish. I’ve got one shot at this and I’m not going to ruin it,” you say, confident, albeit quite stupidly.

“Jesse and Hanzo finally confessed then, I take it? Still, schätze, if you want lingerie you have to go and buy some.”

“Angela, we’re on an island in the sea and I need it tonight.”

The doctor pauses, taking off her reading glasses- which looked remarkably good on her, damn it- and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Alright, bottom drawer. I want it washed and cleaned properly and there better not be any unidentifiable stains,” she says it seriously but she’s smiling and holding up her keycard within reach- but when you try to grab it, she pulls it back.

“You get the keycard if you promise to talk to Genji first.”

You look at her, back at the keycard, sigh, and shrug.

“Sure. I will. Begrudgingly. For the sake of good sex.”

“Gross,” Mercy laughs, handing you the card, “Genji is in the cafeteria with Zenyatta.”

* * *

Genji was indeed in the cafeteria, and when you weren’t dodging him by 30 feet or calling Junkrat, he was staring at you quite intently. You couldn’t exactly tell because robot-visor, but you guessed he was because he wasn’t taking the green flashy lights off of you.

Grabbing a chair, you scoot on closer to their table and find Zenyatta excusing himself.

“We need to talk,” you tell Genji, trying to smile so you don’t seem too much like a killer.

“We do,” the Shimada replies, calmly.

“Why did you think fighting was a good idea?” you ask sincerely, leaning your arms on the table, twirling Mercy’s keycard.

“My brother is not good with words,” he starts, “the entire family is not...good with words. I thought since you were a seasoned fighter, it might be a better language to communicate in.”

“Cute, but it isn’t. But,” you sigh, “thanks for the effort. I shouldn’t have lashed out the way I did. Or released the wrath that is Junkrat on you.”

Genji offers a hand and you take it, shaking it gratuitously.

“Thank you. Take care of my big brother and that cowboy.”

“Okay, why is everyone in on this except me?” you ask him dryly, remembering Mercy’s reaction and Zarya’s finger guns at you in the hallway. And D.VA saying ‘gg’ for some reason, confusing you beyond what was possible. Even the scowling former Talon sniper gave you a wink.

“Did you not see it coming? My brother likes people who are on equal standing with him,” Genji says, voice calm and slightly taunting.

“Well, I did not, because I still stand by the fact that I’m at least 0.02 percent better than Hanzo. And at least 50 percent better than Jesse.”

You stand up and start walking before you turn to the younger Shimada again, voice quiet and soft.

“Thanks for being okay with all this. You’re a good guy,” you smile before skipping to Mercy’s room.

* * *

You are nearly pissing your pants when you reach their room- Jesse had sent you a text, clearly not deleting your number, telling you where you needed to go- clutching the bag of cookies with an iron grip. You know Jesse told you not to bring snacks, but it felt like a mental lifeline for not losing your shit over the impossible situation that was going to unfold.

That, and you hadn’t had sex in a  _ long  _ time.

And Angela’s lingerie, while very amazing, didn’t have a lot to it besides copious amounts of lace and a slight hint towards bondage. Which gave you information about the doctor that you’d rather not received, but alas. It was a sacrifice you’d gladly make.

“You are looking nervous,” Hanzo says when he opens the door after your very curt knock.

“If I wasn’t an adult, I would be shitting my pants right now,” you reply honestly, handing him the bag of cookies to make sure you don’t crush them all during whatever conversation there was going to be had. You can hear the cowboy laugh at your statement while Hanzo lets you in, and you find McCree- completely naked except some boxer shorts, lying on the bed with an air of confidence- looking you over.

“ ‘m sorry, darlin’, thought I might jus’ rip off this ‘ere bandaid immediately,” he grins, and you can’t help staring at him, nodding.

McCree was a larger man, buffness apparent even with the armor and several layers of clothing, but you never expected the amount of muscles to be so copious. His chest seemed to be made by some divine creature hell-bent on making you wet without being touched and though he was pretty hairy, it seemed to fit him.

You made it a point to not stare at his bulge too much, because the first time you’d looked down it looked erect and pretty big, and you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to tackle that immediately.

“You’re a dog, Jesse,” you mutter, still staring at his abs, when you hear the rustle of clothing behind you.

Hanzo is quickly getting rid of all layers as well, shedding his top and pants and boots and it becomes very clear that while his legs are pretty skinny, his torso is not. He’s about as ripped as McCree but has less of the big-boned structure, and he definitely has less hair.

“Alright, nobody told me we’d get straight into stripping,” you say, holding your hands up as if to pause time, and Jesse has the decency to sit up.

“We want to make you feel comfortable,” Hanzo says, sitting down on the bed too.

“An’ what better way to feel good about this if not by seein’ these gorgeous bodies, huh, darlin’?”

McCree’s grinning which means the confidence is just a charade and probably is meant to make you feel at ease, and you carefully go sit on the bed next to the cowboy. Hanzo is on Jesse’s right, staring at the piece of lace that peeks out from under your top.

“I have to say, you look at least 10 percent better than I thought,” you joke, carefully placing a hand on Jesse’s stomach to feel the muscle.

“Wow, they’re real,” you whisper, running your fingers down until Jesse lets out a low groan.

“Don’ tell me you don’t know what that does to a man,” he growls, and your heart can’t help but speed up at the implication.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. You can basically think of me as a virgin, but then one who does know where the schlong goes. And who is very sarcastic about all of it.”

“Alright,” the cowboy agrees, picking you up at the waist and turning both himself and you toward Hanzo, “let’s help you get those clothes off, then.”

You practically sing in agreement as his hands go from your waist to your breasts- groping them through the fabric. It doesn’t last long though- after Hanzo struggles with your pants for a while you all silently agree it’s better for you to take your own clothes off, and you stand up.

“Okay,” you nod, wrapping your fingers around the edges of your top and pulling it up quietly, revealing the first part of Mercy’s outfit- and McCree whistles at you.

“I was jokin’ about the lingerie but it’s good to see ya actually did that.”

You turn to Hanzo to see if he has something to say, but his face looks thoughtful.

“Take off the rest,” he pretty much orders- you always figured he was more dominant in the bedroom. Especially because he loved control outside of it so much.

Since it’s just a pair of training pants, you easily slide them off and make sure to give them a good view of your behind- your butt looked damn good in this ensemble and they were going to appreciate it whether they wanted to or not. You notice both of them are still staring despite your show-off stopping, and you swallow at the intense stares. Jesse turns to Hanzo, who merely nods before they both get up and surround you like two hungry vultures.

“You’re still alright with this arrangement?” the archer asks quietly, right next to your ear as his fingers play with the lace close to your breast.

“I am.”

They can barely hear you until Hanzo’s fingers slip underneath the lace and tease your nipple- you hear Jesse whisper something along the lines of ‘he’s good at that’ into your ear before the cowboy starts kissing your neck, rough, biting every once in a while and surely leaving marks.

“ ‘Kay, honey, before we move on- ‘red’ if you want to stop,” Jesse tells you, and it somehow calms you down a little despite also making you wonder why exactly they needed words- or perhaps Angela wasn’t the only one into kinkier sex.

“I’m not saying red, so go on,” you mutter, feeling Hanzo pull down your bra before deciding it’s in the way and getting it off of you- once your chest is out in the open, the archer carefully starts massaging your breasts before you feel him lick your nipple, and then suck it and then-

You gasp when he bites down softly, grabbing at his soft black hair and feeling slightly embarrassed as McCree lets out a low chuckle against your neck.

“Told you,” the cowboy says, walking around until he’s behind you and leaning his face against your neck again, “wha’ddya want, darlin’?”

You let out a moan while Hanzo turns you into putty without even coming near your nether regions, before using your other hand to grab Jesse’s hair and pull him closer.

“Please,” you gasp, “touch me. Now. Before I-”

Hanzo bites down again and you forget what you were going to say while Jesse’s fingers travel down, hook around the panties and easily pull them down enough for him to waste no time rubbing your folds- you expected some sort of warning so your left arching back into his touch, giving Hanzo even more room to play with your breasts.

“Darlin’, you look beyond good all moanin’ for us,” Jesse says, dirty undertones and a quiet growl in his voice as he finds your clit and thumbs it while he carefully starts working on your entrance. You can feel his erection against your ass and not wanting to be the only one in shambles, you grind against it while the hand you had in Hanzo’s hair goes down and finds his crotch.

Quite easily, because he’s also getting hot and bothered.

“Ho there, darlin’,” Jesse starts, groaning when you take your time to rub against his erection once again, “we-”

“We what?” you taunt, wrapping your hand around Hanzo’s length and giving a squeeze, making the man finally divert his attention away from your breasts.

“Cute,” there’s a dark glint in Jesse’s eyes and you remember that this wasn’t a contest, but you couldn’t help treating it in a competitive way, “on the bed, ass in the air. I ain’t sayin’ it twice.”

Hanzo moves away, which leaves you with not much else to do but follow the cowboy’s orders- without much effort, your knees hit the bed and you lay down with your ass in the air, hoping that meant more attention to your flushed nether regions.

“What do you say when you want to stop?” the cowboy asks, quietly, hand on your ass and groping, hard.

“Red,” you moan, wondering where Hanzo has gone until you feel him carefully lift your arms behind your back- when your wrists are touching, he wraps what seems like rope around it with a featherlight touch.

“Is this alright?” he asks- you’re flattered by the carefulness of the both of them.

“You’ll hear it when it isn’t,” you smile against the blanket- your face is mushed into it, after all, and without warning, you feel a finger entering your folds. The sloppy sounds it makes in the room makes you hot and bothered, but you’re also impressed by whoever is doing the fingerwork. You are leaning into it and trying to move your arms- ever so often- in search for something to grip when you feel yourself getting close to release.

Only for it to stop completely.

Your childish moan elicits a chuckle from the cowboy.

“Sorry, darlin’. Can’t have you all done before anythin’ happens.”

“You pull a stunt like that one more time and I’ll make sure you’re done,” you threaten jokingly, before you feel someone’s  tip lining up with your folds- it can’t be Jesse, because Jesse circled around and is moving your hair out of your eyes and mouth.

“Now, darlin’, you ready?” 

You look at the cowboy with hazy eyes as his hand is lovingly tracing your face- it’s warm and rough but it’s very sweet how considerate they are despite liking things rough.

“Very,” you coyly smile and on cue, Hanzo’s length enters. He’s taking it slow and the feeling of being filled makes you let out a long, satisfied moan- once he’s in completely Jesse picks you up by your shoulders so you’re completely exposed to the hairy man and the movement makes you moan.

“Can I move?” Hanzo asks- though it feels more like an order, just like everything he says. You nod, biting your lip as you feel him his hips slamming into yours. It’s not slow, or sweet, but it damn well is incredibly satisfying- especially because Jesse’s now kissing and teasing your breasts. 

One particular spot makes you cry out louder than the others and Hanzo soon picks up on this- seemingly making it his personal goal to make you moan as loud as possible as he tries his best to hit it with every single movement- it doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak and though your hands are tied, you manage to grab onto the stomach of the Shimada, digging in your nails as you silently beg for him to go on.

Jesse, clearly very happy with how it’s going, lets his mouth leave your nipple in favour of kissing along your neck and cheek and then kissing you on the mouth- he’s biting your lip and there’s a lot of tongue involved and when you open your eyes to take a quick look, you notice him staring at Hanzo.

Hotly staring at Hanzo, who’s now also groaning because you’re both getting too close.

“You gettin’ close, darlin’? ‘Cause Hanzo sure is, aren’t you?” 

When he addresses his lover, he also immediately moves in to kiss him over your shoulder and that gives you Jesse’s shoulder to lean on as you orgasm- crying out a string of curses and moans into an incredibly tan neck before breathing heavily.

“Alright,” you start, voice a bit hoarse and a little bit disoriented, “this was the best idea ever.”

“Y’r gonna have to use present tense ‘cause we’re not done yet, honey,” the cowboy says when he finally breaks free from his kiss with Hanzo. You feel him undo the ropes as Hanzo carefully slides out- but keeps his hands on your stomach, which you like, because it’s a nice warmth and a sweet gesture.

Jesse carefully hooks your legs around his waist and levels his length with your opening before looking at you from under the incredibly handsome mop of brown hair.

“You ready?”

You brace yourself by nestling both hands into Hanzo’s meticulous hair and letting him play with your breasts as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“Ready,” you grin at the cowboy, who doesn’t take it easy like Hanzo did and slides in with one quick and aggressive buck of his hips- sliding into a fast tempo of pumping his legs up so he fills you up completely. Because of your previous orgasm, you’re way more sensitive than before- and since Jesse’s pace is a lot more animalistic, it’s making you see stars and be glad Hanzo could take a little hair pulling.

“Jesse, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it. Ain’t done yet,” he growls at you, biting your neck for good measure while Hanzo starts kissing it and you moan at the sensation of the two men lavishing you in attention. You can feel Jesse’s arm sneaking around and by how Hanzo reacts, you’re guessing the archer is getting some personal attention from the cowboy as well- you can’t really pay too much attention to it as the tempo rises and becomes irregular.

“Jesse, please-” you groan, about ready to burst, “I can’t hold it much- oOoh-”

Jesse’s free hand has found your clit and his thumb is rubbing circles as he continues filling you up completely.

The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you fall back on Hanzo who luckily was prepared for that, as the cowboy comes not too long after.

* * *

The sunlight is blinding and for some reason smelly as well when you wake up later that day- you open your eyes properly to find yourself spooning McCree, face propped up in his armpit. You all must’ve fallen asleep at some point, considering sunlight is already streaming back into the room.

You give him a shove and he doesn’t stir aside from the snort-snore that exits his mouth. One of your legs is draped over Jesse’s and barely reaches Hanzo.

He is sleeping like a king, compared to the two of you.

Still, both of them look serene and beautiful in their own way- afterglow still coating their skin. You can’t believe this isn’t a dream- suddenly worried that they’ll tell you it was a mistake, a lapse in judgement- so you carefully crawl out and sit down on the side of the bed with your head in your hands.

“It is early. Are you leaving?” Hanzo’s voice is quiet but still stern- you turn with red cheeks and blurry eyes.

“I’m…”

“You?”

You brush your hair behind your ear and your voice cracks.

“I shouldn’t be getting between you-”

“What are you talking about?”

Hanzo’s sitting up now- hair immaculately draped along his face while you and Jesse are both contenders for ‘worst bed head ever’. His eyes are stormy and beautiful.

“We invited you. You are not getting between me and Jesse. Do you regret-”

“No!”

That response might’ve been a tad too quick and loud- McCree shuffles over and affectionately cradles your thigh while still snoring. 

Hanzo isn’t exactly smiling but the corners of his mouth are lifted upwards at your exclamation. 

“I’d regret it if it won’t happen again,” you quietly admit. 

“Would’ya both shut y’r traps an’ come back to bed?”

You both turn to the cowboy. His one eye is cracked open and he’s looking at you.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ rid of us that easy, dollface.”

Hanzo’s already shuffling back under the sheets and closer to his lover.

You crack a million dollar smile while you get back to being the big spoon.

“That’s what I hoped. Now get your elbow out of my face, you stink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this turned out longer than expected. hope you enjoyed! <3


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